Undisclosed Desires
by Carrot Top
Summary: When two FBI agents go missing in Charming, Agent Dana Bradshaw is given the most challenging case of her life: She must go undercover, infiltrate SAMCRO, and find out if they are behind the disappearances. Yet as the investigation proceeds she finds herself not only struggling with a growing attraction for one of her prime suspects, but also forced to face her own tumultuous past.
1. Prologue

**Hello there! **

**This story has been _haunting_ me day and night for almost three weeks now and I literally could no longer keep myself from writing it. Now, even though the plot of this story doesn't have **_**anything**_** to do with what's happened in the show, the idea was inspired by an event that took place in the first season. This story and the storyline from the show are two **_**very **_**different creatures, but there may be mentions of events that happened in the first season and most of the characters and their relationships will remain the same…for the most part. Capeesh?**

_**Warnings - Probably lots of violence and cursing, though I'll attempt to keep F-bombs to a minimum. There might be sexy-times, but nothing explicit.**_

**Disclaimer: Own nothing related to SOA - story title inspired by Muse's "Undisclosed Desires", story itself inspired by Jax Teller's unbelievable hotness and the growing need for legit, badass chicks. **

**So without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

_**Prologue**_

_April 2009_

_Charming, California_

Jackson Teller felt at ease for the first time that night as the roar of his Harley reverberated off the surrounding homes and echoed in his ears. The wind beat against his face and whipped through his hair, but the familiar feeling was more of a comfort then a nuisance. Hell, it was moments like these that helped him keep some shred of sanity anymore these days – when it was just him, his bike, and a stretch of pavement, he could forget all of the shit that threatened to send him even further along this downward spiral he was already on; he could actually allow himself to be in his natural element and just enjoy the ride.

But as he had found to be the case time and time again, all good things must come to an end. A scowl worked its way onto his face without him really even knowing it when he pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, his eyes regarding his once cherished home with a blank, unfeeling look. The street became starkly quiet again once he'd turned off the ignition and the silence seemed almost deafening, closing in on him in an almost taunting preview of what surely awaited him inside. He heaved to himself and undid his helmet, dropping it carelessly onto the handle of his bike, then got to his feet as he started for the front door. Once he was inside, he took a moment to silently peer around the empty living room before dropping his keys onto a nearby table.

"I thought that might've been you." Neeta suddenly said, taking him by surprise when she walked out of the kitchen with her purse already hanging over her shoulder. She looked about as worn and tired as he currently felt, but he just couldn't find it in himself right then to feel guilty for having made her watch over Abel so late into the night. "Abel's eaten, been changed, and fell asleep about a half hour ago. He should be good for the night." Neeta went on to update him.

Jackson nodded in understanding. "Thanks, Neeta." He told her a bit flatly, fishing around in his pockets for a second before pulling out some extra cash. She tried to deny it when he handed it over, but he forced her to take it anyway. "Compensation for your extra time." He stated, leaving no room for argument as he stepped to the side to unblock the door. "Goodnight."

Neeta sighed in resignation, nodded, and stuck the extra money into her purse. "Goodnight."

The first thing he did once Neeta was gone was head into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He gulped down a generous helping of the strong whiskey, wincing a bit as it burned its way to his stomach, then set the glass down to take off his cut – Jackson pulled a face when his movements had the smell of cheap perfume wafting up into his nose and hung the leather cut over the back of the chair in hopes of airing it out. There was only a fleeting moment where he thought about the nameless, scantily-clad woman responsible for the strong scent now attacking his senses before he snatched up his drink and finished the rest with another large gulp, already wanting to forget about the quickie he'd had with the unimportant woman. Then once he'd refilled his glass, he began trudging towards Abel's room.

There had been a time in Jackson's life where coming home would have made him feel happy and contented, when being here with the people dearest to him was the best part of his day. But now, as he passed through the once cozy-feeling living room and headed for his son's bedroom, there was no happiness within him. He was just…_numb_ to everything now, as had been the case ever since _she _had walked out of his life once and for all.

The seemingly permanent scowl finally only faded from his face once he had reached Abel's room and went to stand by the crib. The ten-month old looked angelic as he slept and it was impossible for Jackson to stop the warmth the filled him at the sight of his son, nor could he help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. The blonde-haired man reached down to pat Abel's stomach affectionately, but then retracted it and took a step back when the baby stirred so as not to wake him. He took a seat in the rocking chair instead, not bothering to turn on the light as he relaxed and began enjoying his drink.

But the brief moment of contentedness he'd felt at seeing Abel was gone as quickly as it had come. Because, as usual, with silence and solitude came the thoughts that he valiantly tried to fight down on a daily basis, the very ones that had been haunting him for the past three months – thoughts of _her_. He was bombarded by memories of coming home to her making dinner for him, of seeing her in this very chair as she tended to Abel and took on the role of mother so effortlessly. Thoughts of happier times, when he would wake up to her each morning or pine for her on long trips, knowing that she was waiting for him in this very house. It had seemed like things might have _actually _been on the right track this time around, that everything might work out.

How completely and utterly _wrong_ he had been.

Though Jackson understood what had motivated her decision to leave Charming again, he still didn't understand _why _she had left when she did. Honestly, it didn't make much sense to him. She had stuck around through the Kohn incident, had remained cool as a cucumber the entire time that the ATF had been investigating SAMCRO the previous year, but had walked out just when it felt like the dust was finally beginning to settle? Sure things had been a little hectic around Charming ever since the ATF had pulled out – with the lack of feds around to keep everyone on their best behavior, the rivalry between SAMCRO, the Nords, and the Mayans was beginning to make them feel as though they might be on the verge of an all-out war – but it was nothing that SAMCRO couldn't handle and certainly nothing that he would have ever allowed to pose a threat to _her_.

But in the end there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that could convince her to stay in some place that she _clearly _wanted to be separated from. She had left him, left Abel, and run back to Chicago. _I love you, Jax, you know I do, _her voice echoed in his head for probably the thousandth time, _But I can't live like this anymore. I tried, but I just…I can't do it. I'm sorry. _

Had it been any other woman, Jackson knew he wouldn't have cared enough to become the weak, whimpering, and wounded dipshit that he now was. _She _was different. _She _wasn't some sweetbutt or crow-eater, _she _was something special. And everything that they'd built together – the home they'd made in _this _house, the bond they'd formed, the family they had begun talking about – had all been ripped away. For _good_. And he'd tried _everything _from throwing himself headfirst into the club's dealings to fucking countless women in an attempt to get _her _out of his system_, _but unfortunately, it seemed there wasn't enough danger, booze, or loose women in the world to cure the ache that had settled in the region of his heart. He was a damned pathetic mess…and it seemed that was something that was _not _about to change any time soon.

He was pulled from his dark thoughts when Abel started to whimper from his crib, as though the child could feel the ominous aura filling the room with his father's increasingly spiteful musings and was expressing his dislike of it. Jackson set his drink down and got to his feet again, feeling his mood lighten some once his son was in his arms – Abel seemed to be the only one capable of temporarily chasing his demons away nowadays. He cooed at the baby affectionately, his actions highly contradicting of the rough exterior he presented to the outside world, and within moments Abel had fallen back to sleep. Jackson didn't bother putting him back in his crib this time, choosing to hold him instead as he sat back in the rocking chair and cradled his son protectively to his chest.

_At least there's still _something_ good about this damn place_, he thought to himself as he ran a calloused fingertip over Abel's delicate cheek. As his gaze shifted upward a bit to eye the Sons of Anarchy beanie atop Abel's head, he reached over to grab his drink again, feeling a little less bitter then he had just moment ago – he was better then this, God-damnit. Was there really a point in sitting around and moping about a woman that wanted nothing to do with him anymore? Abel and SAMCRO, that was all he needed; not _her_. And as long as he still had his son and still had his brothers, then maybe things weren't really so bad.

Right?

_~U~D~_

_Los Angeles, California - FBI Headquarters_

Dana Bradshaw could hardly keep from fidgeting as the elevator slowly climbed upward, keeping her eyes trained intently on the red digital numbers as they ticked by, all-the-while impatiently tapping her fingers against her thigh. Once the metal box came to a standstill at floor number five, she took a moment to nervously smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt before reminding herself, yet again, to be on her absolute _best _behavior. She was already in enough trouble as it was – there was to be no back-talking, no arguing, and she could not_, _repeat _not, _let her temper get the better of her. Not today and _certainly _not in _this _meeting.

Upon exiting the elevator, Dana was faced with a long hallway. At the end sat three waiting chairs and a lone desk being manned by a mid-forties secretary named Judith. The secretary was in the middle of a phone conversation when Dana approached, while simultaneously typing away at her keyboard, and only took a brief moment to nod at her before motioning towards the double doors to the left.

"He's ready for you." Judith whispered before immediately diverting her attention back to her conversation, not sparing the younger woman a second glance.

Dana nodded and headed for the door, feeling as awkward and anxious as a teenager about to ask someone out on a date for the first time. She hesitated only for a second before sucking in a deep breath and knocking twice on the solid wood – as she lowered her hand back to her side, she had to wipe her palm on her pant-leg to get rid of the nervous sweat that had accumulated there. _Don't screw this up, Bradshaw. Do _not _screw this up._

"Come in."

Dana only poked her head into the office at first and was immediately greeted with the sight of her superior, an attractive, dark-skinned man in his early forties by the name of Carl Peters. He motioned for her to come in further once he saw that it was her at the door, and she nodded before stepping in fully and closing the door behind her. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Dana asked in her most cordial tone, valiantly hiding how nervous she was.

"Please, sit." He said, gesturing towards the chair sitting opposite from his. Once she was settled in Peters leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk between them; she almost fidgeted under his scrutinizing, unyielding stare but somehow managed not to. "Tell me, Bradshaw, how long have you been with the bureau – four years or five?"

His question immediately made a few warning flags go up in her mind and Dana began to feel a little wary of where this conversation might be headed. "It'll be four years in November." She answered steadily.

Peters nodded and brought his hands up, steepling them together against his lips as he regarded her. "And in that time period you and I have always worked together fairly well, wouldn't you agree?" Dana slowly nodded her head in concurrence. "Why do you think that is?"

Dana frowned, having to take a moment to think of a proper response to such an off-the-wall question. "I would guess that's because we've always been straightforward with one another. Speaking frankly, neither one of us has time or patience for bullshit, sir."

Peters 'hmph'ed in response and nodded his head, seemingly agreeing with her assessment of their working relationship. "Then because I'm tired, because I have a _mound _of paperwork piling up on my desk, and because it's the end of the day and I _can't_ be late to dinner one more time this week without Sandra killing me, I'm going to be _very _straightforward with you now." He stated after a moment or two of pensiveness, making her immediately straighten up in her chair – _Oh lord, here it comes. _"You fucked up, Bradshaw."

She immediately turned her gaze away, knowing full well she should have expected there to be another lecture waiting for her but still unable to help feeling a bit annoyed that they were talking about this _again_ – you see, Dana had recently been 'grounded', as was the popularly used term whenever an agent screwed up bad enough to get themselves taken out of the field but _not_ quite so horrible as to get officially suspended. In her particular case, _apparently_ disobeying a few measly orders while working her most recent investigation (the now Infamous Gomez Case) and accidently getting other agents shot had been more then enough to ensure that her rear end remained planted firmly at a desk for a minimum of at least two weeks. And after a long (and incredibly boring) sixteen days of never-ending paperwork, she'd been hoping that Peters had called her in today to _end_ that punishment.

Apparently, Dana had thought wrong.

"Sir – " She started to defend herself.

"You disobeyed a direct command, Bradshaw." Peters interrupted, reminding her of her mistake for about the seventeenth time. "And because of your recklessness not one, but _two_ agents are injured. You should count your blessings that you're even sitting where you are right now, because there were some debates about handing you termination papers. Do you even realize how _lucky _you were that no one was killed in that fiasco?" She knew from experience that his question was a rhetorical one, so she wisely kept her mouth shut and waited for him to continue with his rant – her superior fixed her with a stern stare for a long moment before letting out a heavy heave. "Lucky for you…" He continued, this time with a less abrasive tone. "You're still one of the best I've got. And even if you did have a…_lapse in judgment_ on the Gomez case, in every other aspect you've done exceptional work here and that isn't something to be overlooked."

Hoping that the worst of the storm had passed now, and that maybe she _wasn't _on the verge of losing her job, she met her superior's gaze again and nodded her head. "I take my job very seriously, sir – sometimes a bit _too _seriously. I know I put fellow agents at risk and I'm sorry for that, it was never my intention to get anyone else hurt." She apologized, hoping her sincerity would help smooth things over even further.

Peters regarded her for a second, seemingly trying to gauge how sincere she was, before he shifted his attention and leaned over to open one of the drawers in his desk. He pulled out two vanilla colored files, though one looked significantly fuller then the other, and handed the thinner of the two to her first. She accepted it with a curious look, not daring to open it until he told her to but unable to repress the growing hope that she might soon be back to doing _real _work.

"All bullshit aside," Peters started as she eyed the file in her hand. "I think if given the opportunity that you could go very far in this organization, Bradshaw." Peters revealed matter-of-factly. "And that opportunity for you to show your potential has just presented itself, but you're going to _have _to prove that you can play by the rules. No rash decisions, _no arguing with me,_" That was said with a _very_ stern look, "and no going rogue just because you 'have a hunch'. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Dana readily agreed, growing more and more excited with where this conversation was headed – was she overanalyzing his words, or was Peters _actually _hinting that there might be a promotion on the horizon for her if she played her cards right? It was unexpected seeing as she'd more or less been in purgatory for the past two and a half weeks but hell, she'd probably jump through hoops of _fire _right now if it meant getting back in the field or getting a promotion.

Peters nodded in approval of her response then waved towards the folder in her hand. "Tell me, what do you know about the Perry Wilson case?"

Dana's eyes widened in surprise and she immediately opened the file, her eyebrows coming together when she saw a picture of the politician in question smiling back at her.

Perry Wilson was the current Mayor of San Jose and had been for the past five years. Recently he had decided to go further with his political career and had begun early campaigning for Governor of California in light of the upcoming election year. And though his anti-crime movements were starting to gain him a good deal of notoriety both in his very supportive hometown _and_ abroad, they had also earned him an increasingly long list of enemies within crime syndicates – that much had been made _glaringly _obvious over the past few weeks by the onslaught of threats piling up against him and, even more so, when the mayor himself had nearly been kidnapped four days previous.

"I don't know very much about the attempted kidnapping." Dana admitted, tearing her eyes away from the photo to look back at her superior. Seeing as this investigation had thus far been handled by higher-ups with more experience then her, she had to wonder why he was presenting such a high-profile case to her now.

"Well, four days ago we received a call from Mayor Wilson's head of security." Peter's began to explain, now filling her in on the details of the case. "They were passing through Charming, California on their way to Oakland when they decided to bunk up in a hotel for the night. They found a Motel 6 on the outskirts of town, got a few rooms, and settled in for the night." Dana turned her attention back to the file to flip through it, eyeing the notes inside as Peters talked. "Apparently the mayor then decidedit'd be a good idea to visit the local dive-bar. You know, have a few drinks, mingle with the locals, so on and so forth."

Her eyes darted back up to his. "_Surely_ he didn't go to a bar without his security team." Dana retorted incredulously, shutting the file and setting it back on the desk.

"Oh, they were with him alright." Peters told her matter-of-factly, the look on his face letting her know he was unhappy with the story he was recounting. "The head of security said they got 'caught off-guard', got jumped the second they walked out of the bar. One minute they're heading back to the car, the next they're getting their asses handed to them while Mayor Wilson starts getting hauled towards a big, black van. Lucky for them a backup team was nearby – they drove in, shot the men holding Wilson, and saved the day." He finished a bit dryly.

Dana shook her head in bemusement. "And no civilians saw _any _of this happen?"

Peters shook his head before leaning back into his seat with a long heave. "There were plenty of eyewitnesses, alright, but no one seems to want to talk." He explained, the lines on his forehead deepening as he frowned in disapproval.

"Of course they don't. That would be too easy." She chimed in a bit sarcastically. "So what happened to the kidnappers, then?"

"Aborted their plan as soon as back up rolled in. Guess they weren't ready to die for the cause after all." Peters revealed with a sour look on his face. "There were a few injuries on their part but no fatalities – clean getaway."

Dana shook her head in disbelief, wondering how men as inept as the ones on Perry Wilson's security unit managed to obtain their positions in the first place (the mayor could be _dead _right now if circumstance had panned out differently), but pushed the thought away when Peters reached over and slid the other, thicker folder on the desk towards her. There was an oddly guarded look on his face now, however, that made some of her excitement over the prospect of field work deflate and left her feeling a bit uncertain – maybe it was just her paranoia rearing its ugly head, but suddenly she could not help but think that there might be some sort of catch to this whole 'redeeming' process. She took a moment to eye the folder a bit untrustingly before slowly picking it up.

"What's in this file, sir?"

"Open it and see." He answered simply.

Dana frowned at him for a moment then slowly opened up the file as instructed – as soon as she spotted the pictures inside, or rather _mugshots, _it felt as though her heart had launched itself into her throat. "Why am I looking at this?" She asked in as steady of a voice as she could, raising her eyebrows at her superior as she motioned towards the folder's contents.

"You're looking at this file because as of today, these men are our prime suspects."

"Clay Morrow? Bobby Elvis, Jackson Teller?" Dana listed off, thumbing through the photographs of the bikers. She remembered hearing about this particular motorcycle club in passing nearly a year ago, when the ATF had tried (and failed) to take them down. "_SAMCRO_?" She continued, her voice taking on a note of incredulity – when Peters raised his eyebrows at her in warning, Dana sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. "These guys are suspected gun-runners, not kidnappers. Besides, what would they want with someone like Perry Wilson, anyway?"

"The same thing _every _criminal in California wants with him, I'd guess." Peters shot back at her. "Listen, we don't know if they're kidnappers or gun-runners or what have you. But Wilson's security unit swears up and down that they caught sight of a biker's cut when the kidnappers started retreating."

"And it was this motorcycle club?" Dana asked skeptically. "It wasn't just someone playing dress up?"

"Head of security was ninety-nine-percent sure he saw a grim reaper on one of the attackers' back. And cuts like that aren't exactly easy to get your hands on…as I'm sure you know." He added pointedly.

"Which means that there's a one-percent chance that he's mistaken." She pointed out with a quirk of her eyebrow, choosing to ignore the latter part of his previous statement.

"And _that_ is why we sent Agent's Markum and Huff out to investigate _all _of the nearby clubs, not just SAMCRO." Peters immediately countered.

Dana watched Peters for a long moment before slowly nodding her understanding. "So what's changed?" She asked. "Why are we focusing on these men now?"

Peters heaved heavily at this and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, now looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulder. "We've lost contact with our agents in the field." He revealed grimly. "It's been almost two days since we last heard from them, which means that by this point they've either been kidnapped or killed." He dropped his hand and raised his eyebrows at her. "Now I'll give you three guesses as to which town they were in before going missing."

Dana only needed one guess in the end. "Charming?" She asked knowingly.

When Peters nodding his head in confirmation, Dana sighed and shook her head. She wasn't entirely sure which part of this conversation bothered her more, though – the news of the missing agents, the glaring proof of how dangerous SAMCRO clearly was, or the fact that despite all of this, Peters apparently still planned to send her in to investigate them. "Sir, what makes you think _I'll _be any safer then those agents were if I go to Charming?" Dana asked skeptically. "Woman or not, I'm _still _a federal agent – hell, didn't that Stahl woman get her face bashed in by one of their guys last year? Clearly they aren't fans."

"Which is why we've decided to take a…_different approach._" He stated, staring her down unblinkingly. "Bradshaw, you know as well as I do that trying to get these guys to talk to a federal agent is as pointless as trying to predict the second coming of Christ." Dana scoffed at this – that was hands-down the understatement of the year. "But SAMCRO is _smart. _ATF has been all over these guys for years and _still _haven't been able to get any hard, convicting evidence on them. They know how to avoid a badge by now."

She had a feeling she already knew where this was going. "So what's the plan?" She asked steadily, setting down the SAMCRO file before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Undercover operation." Peters stated bluntly, making her stomach flip uneasily. "Infiltrate SAMCRO and bring them down from the inside."

Dana shook her head before heaving and reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She would have to be an idiot not to know _exactly _why she had been picked for this job – her superior was one of the few people at the bureau who knew of her past connection to a motorcycle club just like SAMCRO, so of _course_ he would recommend her for an operation like this. But Peters was _also_ aware of the fact that she had done everything in her power to completely distance herself from _anything _related to her past life – family, old friends, and investigations included. Was this his way of continuing to punish her? That he was even presenting thiscase to her in the first place felt like a slap in the face, but the fact that he was bribing her with a promotion to get her to agree to taking it left Dana fighting down the urge to throw every nasty word she knew at her superior.

"Sir – " She started to say.

"I know what you're about to say, Bradshaw." He interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her. "And _no, _this is not my version of cruel and unusual punishment." She wasn't very convinced of that, but refrained from saying so. "We need someone on the inside, it's the only way. And like it or not, you're the one most qualified."

Dana had had a feeling that Peters might say something like that and immediately nodded her head, pressing her lips into a tight line. "I understand. Send in the MC brat because she'll blend in." She stated as a sardonic smile stretched across her face, feeling very unhappy with the direction this conversation had gone. "Is the fact that my outlaw father's spending the rest of his life in prison supposed to be my 'get in free' card with SAMCRO?"

"What do you want me to say? That you were chosen because of your past?" Peters countered in a clipped tone, making her fall silent again. "Yes, Bradshaw, your past is part of the reason you were chosen. But you were also chosen because I _know_ you can be the one to _bring these guys down_." He stressed determinedly. "You're smart, you're driven, and you're a damn good agent. You want to show your father that you've made something of yourself? Prove that you aren't like him? I know you do because I _know _you, Bradshaw. Bringing down SAMCRO – " He stated seriously, pushing the folder back in her direction. " – is your opportunity to do just that."

Dana remained silent as she contemplated everything that Peters had just said to her.

She had never (and probably _would _never) admit it to anyone, but Peters had her pegged – she _had _chosen this career path with revenge in her mind. Because her father had been a member of the Devils Diciples MC and because he had chosen his brothers over his wife and children time and again, Dana's home-life had been rather unstable growing up and her family had virtually ended up being ripped apart. She had worked all of her adult life to overcome her past and prove that she was better then her upbringing, but now it felt as though it had jumped up and was vengefully consuming her. It could be the opportunity of a life time, Dana knew that, and not only in terms of progressing in her career – if she took this case, if she brought down the elusive SAMCRO organization, then maybe Dana could finally find the closure she'd been searching for. But, then again, that was assuming that being thrown back into the world that she had tried so hard to forget _wouldn't_ end up destroying her first.

"How long would I be there?" She finally asked in an apprehensive voice.

"That, I'm afraid, is circumstantial." He answered a bit regretfully, making her dread worsen. "It could be weeks, it could be _months_…it all depends on how long it takes you to find it if SAMCRO is behind these attacks or not."

She slowly nodded in understanding. "I…" Dana shook her head, trying to form the correct words. "I need time to think about it. I hope you understand why."

Peters nodded, showing a brief hint of sympathy for the first time in weeks, and grabbed the folders before stacking them together and offering them to her. "I do. Take the files, read them over." Dana nodded and reached out to take the folders, feeling as though the large one dedicated to SAMCRO weighed as heavily as an anvil. "But I will need an answer by tomorrow, we can't afford to wait on this."

"Understood." Dana said, quickly getting to her feet and heading for the door. This decision was going to be a tough one to make and would undoubtedly leave her in a bad state for the rest of the day – this called for two things; Joel Matheson, a fellow agent and her go-to for advice, and a strong drink.

She was just opening the door and about to step out of the office when Peters spoke up again. "And Bradshaw?" He called out, making her pause and look back at him. "Remember, we might have lost two men because of these bastards. If those agents are dead, justice _needs _to be served." He told her with a no-nonsense look on his face.

"I won't forget, sir." She said with a quick nod of her head before stepping out and leaving Peters' office.

* * *

Two hours later found Dana and Joel sitting in the living room of her quaint, two bedroom apartment. The apartment itself was not overly decorated – only a few simple art pieces hung here or there to break up the otherwise plain, grey-colored room. Since Dana was rarely there and had never taken the time to make it more homely, it had an overall feeling of abandon. In fact, the only item in the apartment that looked to have been used recently was the sizeable cork-board hanging up on one wall of the living room; it was used during investigations, to keep her notes in order. The mugshots of the SAMCRO members were already pinned to this board and she had been staring at them sourly for at least a half hour now.

"I think it's a really good opportunity."

Dana scoffed and finished off the last bit of her whiskey, setting it down on the coffee table before leaning back and relaxing into her couch – she and Joel had been going back and forth about this for over an hour. "I _think _it involves a motorcycle club that's tried to kidnap a politician and might have killed two FBI agents." She shot at Joel huffily. "Who's to say I won't end up just like them?"

Joel threw back some of his own drink and then shook his head – he was scruffy and unshaven, handsome in a man's-man sort of way, in his mid-thirties and had always been a good listener whenever she found herself in need of a good venting session. They had also had a brief romantic relationship whenever she first joined the bureau, but that had been very short-lived. "C'mon, Dana." Joel said with a pointed look. "You're not gonna be alone on this. Do you _really_ think Peters would send you into the lion's den without protection?"

"After the shit he's put me through recently? Yeah, I do." Then she thought about his question for a moment before frowning over at him. "Wait…you already _knew_ about this, didn't you?" She accused.

Joel immediately pressed his lips together and then brought his drink up to his mouth again. "He might've mentioned it." He responded quickly before taking a hearty gulp of his drink.

Dana immediately leaned forward and swatted his shoulder, glaring at him in annoyance. "You could have _warned _me what the meeting was about. I thought I was gonna get fired, for God's sake."

She got up to go and fix herself another glass then, shooting another glare in his direction as she walked past him, but Joel only pulled a face at her in response. "Okay, so would you have rather me said this?" He asked sarcastically as she poured whiskey back into her glass. "Hey, Dana? A new investigation on SAMCRO has been opened up and Peters is gonna assign you the case. I suggest you take it or you might end up suspended indefinitely." When she turned back to face him with a surprised look on her face, Joel raised his eyebrows. "Better?"

Dana gaped at him for a long moment. "Wait, is that part about the suspension _true_?"

Joel sighed and shrugged, the sarcasm on his features fading away. "I wouldn't rule it out if I were you." He suggested honestly.

Dana shook her head before turning back to the mini-bar and pouring _more _whiskey into her cup. She then ran a hand through her hair, working out some of the knots that had formed in the mid-length, copper-colored tresses, and went to sit back on the couch. "God-damnit." She muttered to herself as she plopped onto the cushions ungracefully. "I'm damned if I take the case and damned if I don't."

"You know what I think?" Joel offered, turning in his seat to face her fully. "I think it shows how much _faith _Peters has in you." When Dana shot him a disbelieving look, he immediately rolled his eyes. "Do you think he would've handed you this case if he didn't think you could handle it?" Joel questioned her skeptically.

"That world is _dangerous_, Joel." She shot back with a frown. "I've been there, I've _seen _it – hell, I lost my _father _to it." When Joel quirked a brow and started to speak again she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he was about to counter her statements about her father. Dana held a hand up to silence him, shaking her head again. "Don't even bring it up." She warned him. "Not today."

Joel raised his hands in surrender. "Fine." He conceded. "But listen to me right now – you can't pass this up just because you're being a chicken-shit." He went on to argue. Dana threw a hand up in frustration, feeling utterly annoyed with Joel right then, and took a long gulp of her drink to keep from saying anything snarky. "Peters is right about proving something to your father, but this is about proving something to _yourself _too. If you _really _want to close the door on your past once and for all, you'll take this case. Stop playing the victim and actually _do _something about this, Dana."

Dana turned her eyes elsewhere, unable to meet Joel's pointed stare any longer, and instead scrutinized the mugshots hanging nearby. She'd be lying if she said that his words hadn't sparked some sort of determination deep within her – was the alcohol clouding her judgment, or he didhe _actually _have a point? For all of these years she had been hunting down criminals and making sure they spent the rest of their pathetic lives in prison, but never once had she had the courage to try and actually absolve her past by bringing in men like her _father._ She had talked the talk for nearly eight years now, but had never walked the walk. Maybe this was her golden opportunity to rise to the challenge and change that.

"So?" Joel finally asked after a long stretch of silent. "What are you gonna do, Bradshaw – be a coward or take charge?"

Dana turned and met his challenging stare for a long moment, knowing Joel was trying to fuel the fire in her, then extended a hand in his direction before she could have a chance to rethink her decision "Give me your phone." She commanded resolutely.

Joel pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her, keeping his gaze locked on her as she flipped it open and quickly dialed an all-too-familiar number. Dana sat up straighter as she waited for an answer, placing her drink on the coffee table in front of her, before running a hand through her hair. _I sure hope I'm not making the biggest mistake of my life, _she thought to herself – finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was an answer.

"Peters." Her superior greeted in a crisp, professional tone.

"It's Dana Bradshaw, sir." She said in response before closing her eyes and sucking in a deep, steadying breath. "I've come to a decision about SAMCRO."

There was a pause on the other end. "And?"

Dana nodded her head even though Peters couldn't see her – Joel could however, and he immediately flashed her an approving nod before beginning to sort through the papers in front of them, obviously intent on getting a plan underway as soon as this conversation was over. "I'll do it." She revealed to Peters. "I'll go to Charming."

"I'm glad to hear that, Bradshaw." Peters responded in obvious relief. "We'll have a team briefing in the morning, start getting this investigation underway. We'll need you in Charming by next week."

"Yes, sir." Dana answered shortly.

She almost immediately regretted her decision to go through with this insane (and probably suicidal) plan, but knew there was no backing out now – Dana Bradshaw was going to Charming and would soon be face to face with her new greatest enemy; SAMCRO.

* * *

**Thoughts? I love feedback!**


	2. Home Sweet Home

**Oh my word, you guys! You are all so AMAZING! I'll admit I'm both surprised and flattered with the response that the prologue received, but I'm glad you're all interested in this….because **_**trust me**_**, there are going to be **_**looooooots **_**of twists and turns on this particular road. You guys are in for a serious treat! (Assuming I don't screw it up, of course!)**

**P.S. If you feel like the story is starting off slow, hang tough. There's a method to my madness and every chapter, even the slow ones, are a necessary evil!**

**Disclaimer: Own nothing. **

* * *

_**Home Sweet Home**_

Charming was the sort of town that Dana usually referred to as a 'big-small town' – it seemed just big enough so that you would still meet or see new people while out and about, but, in return, just _small _enough to where you saw _somebody _you knew no matter where you went.

The appearance of Charming itself seemed fairly innocent at face value – it certainly wasn't the prettiest place she'd ever seen, but driving through the heart of town had presented her with a number of cozy-looking mom-and-pop restaurants and quaint, privately owned shops. She'd also spied many of Charming's citizens stopping to happily chat when they bumped into one another on the sidewalk or outside of shops, a sight so foreign to her after years of living in Los Angeles that she'd nearly run a red-light in her moment of befuddlement. Charming _seemed_, for all intents and purposes, your typical, run-of-the-mill town. And if one was to disregard the fact that an outlaw motorcycle club appeared to be in charge around these parts, the overall atmosphere of the place would have been enough to leave a warm, welcoming feeling in anyone passing through – unfortunately, since Dana knew there was _far _more to Charming then met the eye, the impression the town left on _her_ was quite different.

"_Turn right at Bougainvillea_."

Dana slowed at a stop sign, checking around to make sure the coast was clear, but paused when she unexpectedly made eye-contact with an older woman standing at her mailbox. Whenever this happened back home she had come to expect the other person to quickly divert their attention elsewhere and continue on with their day. So needless to say, she was caught a bit off guard when a large smile spread across the woman's face and she began waving enthusiastically in greeting – she responded with a quick, uncertain wave of her own then did as her navigation had instructed, turning right before speeding off down the street once the moving van behind her had caught up.

"_Destination in fifty feet, on your left._" The robotic voice of her GPS informed her.

"Thank God…" Dana muttered to herself, able to quickly discern which house she would be staying in thanks to the _FOR SALE _sign embedded in the front lawn – there was a large sticker running diagonal across the sign reading, 'SOLD'. "Home sweet home…"

As soon as Dana pulled into her new driveway, she cut the engine of her car and got out to get a better look at the house. It was nothing grand, just a modestly sized one-story that looked big enough to comfortably accommodate perhaps a small family or someone like herself, a single adult. There was a sizeable porch in front of the house though, which quickly gained her approval, and the yard seemed decently sized and in good condition – she pulled a face at the thought of having to _maintain _that yard (yard-work was something she hadn't needed to worry about in her apartment complex) and already began to wonder if there was someone in town that she could hire to do it _for _her.

She turned her back on the house and meandered down the driveway when the moving van slowed to a stop by the curb and the engine fell silent. As she rounded the truck to greet the two movers (who were not _actually _movers, but rather Joel and another agent in disguise), she noticed that her arrival had attracted the attention of her neighbors across the street; a middle-aged man and a woman she could only assume was his wife both paused in what they were doing to peer at her curiously. Dana nodded her head to them in greeting, feeling a bit like an exotic animal in a zoo as they stared at her, then hurried to meet with Joel as he stepped down onto the street and slammed the truck door shut.

"About damn time." He said gratefully as he stretched out his back. "Jenkins sure drove _slow _enough. I swear, if I had to sit in that truck for _one more minute_…"

"Hey!" Jenkins, the other agent, called to Joel in warning. "I drove as fast as I could, alright?" He went on to defend himself irritably. "It's not like I drive a huge-ass truck everyday – I'm _not_ a fuckin' mover, you know."

Dana cringed – he had not said that very quietly and she quickly glanced towards her new neighbors, hoping they hadn't heard him. "Hey." She echoed as she shot a sharp look in Jenkins' direction, the tone in her voice also one of warning. "Why don't you be more mindful of your surroundings and keep your voice down before you make a mistake." She suggested sternly, making him press his lips together until they were only a thin line. "Get to work."

Jenkins did as he was told and headed for the back of the truck, grumbling to himself the entire way.

"I think you hurt his feelings." Joel commented, making her immediately look up at him with an unremorseful expression. He chuckled a bit before placing his hands on his hips and glancing around at her new neighborhood. "So, what'cha think so far, _Ms. Prejean_?"

Dana took a moment to glance around the street again, feeling a bit unnerved when she noticed that her neighbor to her diagonal-left was watching them quite conspicuously from her kitchen window. "Like I'm an exhibit in a museum." She said with a quirk of her eyebrow, nodding her head in the direction of the spying neighbor. "How do I get myself into situations like these, again?"

"Just lucky, I guess." Joel responded with a shrug, eyeing her neighbor for a quick second before slapping Dana encouragingly on the back. "Don't mind the neighbors – they're probably just not used to a lot of newcomers around here." He added reassuringly.

Well, he had a point there – it wasn't as though Charming was a thriving metropolitan attracting hoards of people to its borders…at least, not people that _weren't _federal agents. "Yeah, I guess that's true." She agreed.

Joel might have had more encouraging things to say, but Jenkins came stomping back around the truck before he got the chance to do so. They both focused their attention on the slightly-short but very stocky agent as he huffed and pointed to the van. "Stop yammering and come help me, Matheson." He demanded with controlled volume. "I don't wanna move this shit to begin with, let alone _by myself_."

Joel shot her a look then left to help Jenkins before the man became anymore irritated. "Alright, alright…"

While the two disguised FBI agents began the process of unloading the furniture from the back of the van, Dana decided to leave them to their business and explore the inside of her new house. She made a quick stop at her car to grab her purse and the moving-box in the backseat, filled with the only possessions from Los Angeles that she'd deemed important, then made her way toward the front door – she paused to glance at the house next door, eyeing the fancy-looking, black Cadillac sitting in the driveway for a moment, then unlocked the front door and pushed her way inside.

The first thing she had to wonder when she stepped into the small, unlit foyer was how long it had been since the previous owner had vacated. The house felt a bit stuffy, heavy with the sort of air that usually lingered in a house which hadn't been occupied for a while – she could just barely detect the smell of cleaning solution, however, letting her know that someone had come in recently to clean the house up before she arrived.

A quick walk through the den to her left led her into the kitchen, which in turn, deposited her back out into the hallway that extended from the foyer. The living room, she discovered, sat at the end of this hallway while another, shorter hallway to her right led to a bathroom and both of the bedrooms. Dana walked into the bigger of the two rooms, pleased to see that there was a master bathroom branching conveniently off from the bedroom, then went to set the box in her hands down on the large window-seat overlooking the street.

_This might not be so horrible, _Dana tried to convince herself as she leaned over to peer out of the window and scrutinize the surrounding houses – the spying neighbor that had been watching her through her window was now outside and talking with the couple across the shook her head, knowing very well that they were probably talking about the 'new girl in town'. _Gonna have to get used to _that, _Bradshaw._ She then ran a quick hand through her hair before stepping back out into the living room.

Joel and Jenkins were already hauling in large pieces of furniture, grunting and groaning as they did so.

"This is bullshit, by the way." Jenkins growled as the two men ambled past her, both already breaking a sweat. "I didn't become a federal agent so I could move your shit. It'll take _all day _to put all of this crap together."

Dana shared an exasperated look with Joel – Jenkins had been complaining like this since the moment Peters appointed the two men with the task of getting her settled in and set up. But truth be told, she'd never been particularly fond of the slightly-younger agent; he was impetuous, cocky, and a bit of an asshole, so watching him struggle with manual labor was _actually_ rather amusing to her.

"Lighten up, Jenkins. There isn't _that _much…and it's all IKEA. You'll be done before you know it." Dana said with a smirk. "Besides, what's the point of all those muscles if you don't put them to good use now and again?" She then shot at him, whacking his muscled shoulder mockingly before he was out of her reach.

"I _do _put them to use." He shot back through gritted teeth, straining a bit as he and Joel carefully lowered what they were holding onto the living room floor. Once their hands were free, Jenkins let out a sound of relief before straightening up and quirking an eyebrow at her. "Only I use them to catch criminals and attract the ladies, not put together your furniture, Bradshaw."

"Well, no time like the present to broaden your horizons then." Dana said matter-of-factly. "And it's _Prejean_, remember?" She reminded him before turning and heading for the front door, intending to move in smaller things and speed the process up – the sooner she was moved in, the sooner Jenkins would be gone.

Within the hour they had managed to move the majority of the furniture and boxes out of the moving van and into various places in the house. While the men worked at putting together the bigger pieces of furniture – like her bed-frame and entertainment stand – Dana occupied herself with unpacking boxes full of kitchen-ware. Plates, pans, utensils, and glasses were stowed away in their proper places before small appliances were set out on the counter-tops and plugged in for future use – since she figured that this kitchen might _actually _see a bit of use (unlike her kitchen back in Los Angeles), she thought it wise to actually make sure things were in order.

_At least the electricity is good to go, _she mused to herself in approval after plugging in her coffee-maker and watching as the green, digital clock attached to it came to life. When she turned to check that her water had been turned on as well, however, movement outside of her kitchen window caught her attention.

Dana leaned over to get a better look at the middle-aged woman exiting the house next door – her highlighted, brunette-colored hair was impeccably fixed and she was dressed rather nicely, wearing a stylish looking blouse, nice slacks, and tall high-heels. The woman walked with an air of superiority as she headed for her car, and, judging by the fancy jewelry on her ears and around her neck, Dana was left to assume that the woman was either of importance or from money. Dana watched as the older woman paused by her Cadillac, the woman apparently just now noticing the moving van that had arrived, before quickly moving away from the window when the brunette turned a curious look in the direction of Dana's house – the redhead hoped she hadn't been spotted spying, not wanting to give off the same creepy impression that her other nosy neighbors had.

She turned to walk back to the hallway instead, poking her head into the living room to check up on the disguised two agents – they'd already arranged the couch and love-seat in the living room and were just about finished putting together a modestly sized entertainment stand.

"See, this isn't so bad." Dana told them with an impressed tone. Jenkins shot her a sour look but didn't say anything in response, nor pause in his building of the stand. "Anything you guys need?"

"Pizza and an ice-cold beer would be fantastic." Jenkins suggested without turning his eyes away from his task.

Dana's own stomach growled at the prospect of cheesy, greasy pizza and she quickly nodded. "I'll work on it." She told Jenkins. "Joel?"

"Yeah." Joel said, wiping the sweat for his forehead with his forearm – even the running air conditioner wasn't enough to fend of the California heat seeping into the house through the open front door. "I left a black case in the cab of the truck – go grab it for me?"

Dana nodded and turned to make her way back outside. The black Cadillac from next door was gone now and the neighbors across the street had finally retreated back into their respective houses, which she was rather grateful for as she crossed the yard and walked up to the cab of the van. She started back for the house once she had the large, heavy, black case in hand, but paused before she could carry it back inside - a car had just pulled into the driveway of the house to her diagonal-_right _and was currently honking its horn over and over again.

Dana frowned and looked around in confusion, wondering what in the _hell _her new neighbor was being so noise for since the street was essentially deserted at the moment. When the owner of the vehicle got out the car, though, and began hastily making her way in Dana's direction, she immediately understood what had caused all of the commotion; _her_.

"Hi, hello!"

The blonde-haired woman shouting to her in greeting appeared to be in her early-to-mid forties, had clearly spent a lot of time in the sun, and was obviously a fan of bleach (if her _very _highlighted hair was anything to judge by). She hurried over with a vigorous wave, running across the street as fast as her high-heels would allow, and Dana had to repress the urge to gawk as the woman drew nearer – the brightly colored blouse and semi-short skirt she wore looked to be about two sizes too small and put all of the woman's assets on proud display. It was difficult even for _her, _a straight woman, not to stare at the generous showing of cleavage bouncing with the woman's approach.

Dana fended off her growing amusement as she and the woman came face to face and quickly plastered on a smile – _Show time_. "Oh my gosh!" The stranger continued breathlessly, looking beside herself with excitement – though she could stand to lose some of the make-up on her face, she wasa very attractive woman. "Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"Thank you very much." Dana responded politely, setting the case in her hand down on the ground for the moment.

The blonde's gleeful grin never dimmed in the slightest as she took a moment to eye Dana up and down. "My, but you _are _a pretty little thing, aren't you?" She said with a wink before extending a hand. "Bonnie-Jean Dupree. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

It was everything in her not to snicker at the woman's name, finding it amusing for some indecipherable reason. She quickly reached out to shake Bonnie-Jean's hand, though, unable to hold back a smile. "I like your name." Dana complimented with complete honesty. "I'm Dana Prejean, and thank you for the warm welcome. It's nice to be talked to rather then stared at."

"Oh, you'll suffer _plenty _of staring, trust me." Bonnie-Jean warned before grinning even wider and placing her hands on her hips. "I'll tell you something, I was _so _excited when I saw those electricians comin' to work on your house the other day – I thought poor Old Betty's house would _never _sell." She told her with a click of her tongue. "When did'ja get in?" She then asked curiously, glancing towards the moving van.

"About an hour ago, maybe a little more." Dana told her, wondering what had happened to this 'Old Betty' and praying with all of her might that Peters had _not _just moved her into a house that an old woman had passed away in. "This 'Old Betty'…what happened to her?" Dana asked Bonnie-Jean with a note of wariness.

Bonnie-Jean waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry, she didn't _die_." She reassured her, immediately making Dana breathe easier. "Moved into a retirement home about seven months, I think. Couldn't really take care of herself anymore.

"Thank God." Dana responded in obvious relief. Then, with a short laugh, she said, "There's enough to do around that house as it is without worrying whether it's _haunted _or not."

Bonnie-Jean laughed, making Dana feel good about the progression of this interaction – _So far, so good, _she mentally congratulated herself. "So, where ya from?" Bonnie-Jean went on to ask interestedly.

"Los Angeles." She answered truthfully.

An impressed look passed over Bonnie-Jean's face. "Ooooh, the big city!" She said with a waggle of her eyebrows. "That's quite a change – why the move?"

Dana forced out another laugh. "That, I'm afraid, is a _long _story. One that should probably be saved for a rainy day." She told Bonnie-Jean to keep from having to _actually _give her a reason – truth be told, Dana still hadn't quite decided what her response to _that_ particular question was going to be, though she _did _have a possible story in mind that she was eighty-percent sure she was going to use. Until she decided, though, she thought it best to remain as vague as possible.

Bonnie-Jean seemed to notice her reluctance to divulge any further information and waved a hand as though brushing away the topic of conversation. "Perfectly understandable." Bonnie-Jean conceded with a nod. "Besides, girl-talk is always better when there's a good bottle of wine involved." She added with another wink.

Dana inwardly cringed at the idea of 'girl-talk' – when was the last time she'd sat around and chit-chatted over a bottle of wine with someone, especially a female? Hell, had there even been a female friend in recent years to even _have _'girl-talk' with? Dana wracked her brain to try and remember, but couldn't think of anyone after Sonya Martinez, her closest friend during her teenage years. But even _then _they'd both been more concerned with going to parties, smoking weed, and getting into trouble rather then recounting their life stories to each other over a bottle of Chardonnay.

"Well, I know one thing for sure." Bonnie-Jean happily continued on, drawing Dana from her thoughts and forcing her to focus back on her neighbor. "You sure chose a hell of a time to move here, Ms. Prejean." She stated matter-of-factly. "What with that poor Mayor gettin' attacked and all these reporters and FBI agents runnin' about – it's been a little chaotic here the past week or so."

There was a jolt of awareness within Dana as Bonnie-Jean mentioned the _exact _reason behind her coming to Charming – it was with practiced skill that she was able to conceal her sudden alertness and continue to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, I heard what happened." Dana told her with a nod, forcing on a frown of concern. "I thought Charming would be harmless...seems I was wrong." She continued. "What can I say? I guess I'm just _that _lucky." She finished with a sigh and a feigned note of resignation.

Bonnie-Jean smiled at her and reached out to pat her shoulder. "Aw, don't you worry your pretty little head over it, sugar. This town and this neighborhood are _well _protected, trust me." She said reassuringly, making another alert sound in her head.

_Well protected, huh? _Dana was contemplating whether it was too soon to ask Bonnie-Jean for more details on what had been happening in Charming when the blonde's focus diverted towards Dana's house and her eyebrows shot up in obvious interest. Dana turned to see what had caught her attention, then had to suppress a smirk when she realized that Joel had stepped outside and was coming towards them; she was fairly certain she heard Bonnie-Jean quietly voice her approval over Joel's physical appearance as the woman straightened up and fluffed her hair.

"Sorry to interrupt." Joel said apologetically once he was within earshot of the two women. "But we need you inside, Ms. Prejean – we need to know where you'd like some furniture placed."

"Of course, I'll be right there." Dana said with a nod. Joel nodded, flashed a smile in Bonnie-Jean's direction, then headed back inside. "I'm sorry, but I've gotta get back to this." Dana apologized in a convincingly regretful tone, leaning down to pick the black case up again.

"Of course, of course." Bonnie-Jean responded in understanding, nodding her head. "I know you're busy. We can catch up when we have better timing." She paused for a moment, then seemed to have been hit with some grand idea. "In fact, why don't you let me show you around town tomorrow?" Bonnie-Jean offered with growing excitement. "I'm sure there's things you need to pick up and I'd be more than happy to help you out."

Dana thought about it for a moment, then nodded her head. "Sure, that sounds great." She agreed. Admittedly, her agreement had derived from her eagerness to discover jsut what sort of information she'd be able to pry from a woman like Bonnie-Jean Dupree – something told her there were all kinds of secrets floating around underneath all that blonde hair. The two women took a quick moment to exchange phone numbers, then began to go their seperate ways. "Thank you again for the warm welcome. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure, sure." Bonnie-Jean said, looking pleased with Dana's apparent gratefulness. "And remember! If you need anything," She called after her as Dana headed back for the house, "don't hesitate to ask! See you tomorrow!"

Dana sent a nod of understanding and a wave over her shoulder before stepping into her house. She was immediately greeted with the sight of Joel, who had been waiting for her to come inside – he was leaning casually against the wall of the den with his arms crossed over his chest, and was watching her with a smirk on his face.

"Nice acting, Julia Roberts." He teased. "Excited for your girl-date?"

"Ecstatic." She responded indifferently. "I think she liked you, by the way."

"Oh really?" Joel asked in unconvincing surprise, a look of interest passing over his face. "Charming might be able to grow on me after all…"

Dana shot him an unimpressed look when he went to the window and moved a blind out of the way to peer outside, more-than-likely eyeing up Bonnie-Jean as she left. "You're _supposed _to be lugging my furniture around, not checking out my neighbor." She reminded him, forcing him to refocus on the task at hand when she shoved the black case into his hands none-too-gently.

"Yikes…all work and no play makes Dana a dull girl." He commented dryly.

Dana flashed him a sweet-looking smile. "Bite me." She said shortly before heading back into the kitchen.

* * *

_Three hours later…_

"Alright…" Joel said around a bite of pizza.

While Jenkins was content to lounge on her couch in the living room and happily consume his dinner of pizza and beer, Dana hovered behind Joel in the study and watched as he pulled up a log-in window on her computer screen, the official logo accompanying it being that of the FBI's. She took a quick moment to move around him and type in both her identification code and password, then backed away again as he plugged a small USB drive into the tower and began downloading its contents into her hard drive – within a few minutes, she was looking at three separate surveillance screens on her monitor.

"We've positioned a few hidden cameras around town – one near Cara Cara, one near Teller-Morrow Automotive, and another pointed directly at SAMCRO's clubhouse next door to the garage." He swiveled around in his chair to look up at her. "The _ideal _plan would be to get a camera _inside _that clubhouse, maybe even Cara Cara – obviously that's where _you_'ll come in." Joel then raised a curious eyebrow at her. "Have any idea on how you're getting in there yet?"

Dana had an idea or two, but sincerely hoped she would _not _have to resort to _those _measures. "A few…" She answered vaguely. "But I can tell you this right now – I won't get into that clubhouse unless I'm _invited_ in."

Joel nodded his understanding. "Then I suggest you keep that pretty smile on and make friends with the outlaws, Ms. Prejean_._" He suggested.

Dana laughed to herself and shook her head – no matter how badly she wished it to be so, there wasn't a snowball's chance in _hell _that getting into cahoots with SAMCRO was going to be an easy task. "I'll do my best."

"Gonna start lookin' for a job?"

Dana nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow I guess...though I don't have _any _clue what I'm gonna do."

"You'll figure it out." He told her reassuringly. "Have you at least thought of a back-story?" Joel then asked her.

"I haven't decided yet, but I'm thinking about sticking with something close to the truth – the less I have to lie the easier it'll be to keep track of my stories. " She explained. "What'cha think? Be the poor woman that just went through a divorce and wanted to get away from her ex-husband before he broke her heart anymore then he already has? I doubt anyone would question such a 'woeful' tale."

Joel raised his eyebrows in surprise, obviously having not expected her to bring such real or _personal _events from her past into play – as previously mentioned, her story was not that far off from the truth. She _was_ a divorced woman, only she had been divorced for over five years now and really couldn't be bothered to know what her ex-husband was up to these days. "I doubt it too...but are sure that's a good idea? If you gave away _too _much personal information…"

"It's not like I really have a choice, Joel – I didn't get handed this mission just for shits and giggles." She reminded him pointedly. "I'm thinkin' I'm gonna have to bring my past into this whether I like it or not." Joel looked a bit bothered for a moment but didn't argue with her on the matter, so Dana decided to change the subject. "Now, what's that all about?" She asked, motioning towards the black case currently resting on her futon.

"Ahhh…" Joel said, the consternation leaving his face as he got to his feet and motioned for her to follow him towards the case. Opening it revealed a number of electronic gadgets, ranging from ear-pieces to tiny, undercover cameras and everything in between. The only item he pulled out, though, was a small, silver cell phone. "For you." He said, passing it over.

"But I already have a phone." Dana told him in confusion.

"Yes, but _this _one is purely to contact members of the team. It's to be used for the passing of information and emergency situations only." Joel instructed her. "Try to keep it in a discreet place if you can."

"Alright." Dana agreed, setting the phone back down on the desk.

"Don't forget the panic buttons." Jenkins piped up as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, contributing to their conversation for the first time in nearly twenty minutes.

She immediately raised her eyebrows, looking back and forth between Joel and Jenkins. "Panic buttons?" The redhead questioned in unease. "…should I be expecting SAMCRO to come barging into my house sometime soon, or what?"

"It's just a precaution." Joel told her reassuringly. "If something happens - which I'm sure it _won't - _and you find yourself in trouble, all you have to do is push one of the buttons and someone will be here in five minutes tops." He explained. "You're taking a pretty big risk here, the least we can do is make sure you're safe."

Dana felt a rush of gratitude for her team in light of their gesture and flashed Joel a genuine, thankful smile, nodding her head to him in appreciation – she even offered the annoying Agent Jenkins a tiny smile. "Good to hear." She said, feeling slightly more comfortable with the situation now that she was positive back-up would always be nearby. "Where are they?"

"One under the desk," He began revealing, pointing to her computer desk, "another behind your microwave, one under the end-table in the living room, and a fourth one in your night-stand drawer. One press of the button and we swoop in – simple as that." Joel reached back into the case and pulled out a small silver cylinder, the object looking similar to a small laser-pointer. "And this is for when you're out and about. Be careful around SAMCRO if you have it though, they may have equipment that can detect the tracking device in it."

"Got it." Dana concurred. "Anything else I should know?"

Joel's eyebrows suddenly furrowed together and he pursed his lips for a moment – she immediately knew from past experience that Joel clearly knew something that _she _did not. "Well…I might should warn – "

He abruptly stopped talking when Jenkins' cell phone began to ring, both Dana and Joel turning their attention on him and watching as he retrieved the mobile device from his pocket and quickly flipped it open. "Jenkins." He greeted formally, shooting them a glance. "Yes, sir…We just finished, sir…You got it, sir." He snapped his phone shut after that, ending the quick conversation he'd just had with whom she could only assume was Peters, then shoved his last bite of pizza into his mouth. "Time to go, Matheson." He said, using his pant-legs to wipe the pizza grease off of his palms. "Peters wants us back at HQ."

Joel nodded in understanding and turned to the black case, zipping it shut. Dana frowned, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him. "Are you gonna finish that last statement or what?" She prodded.

"Nah, don't worry about it yet." Joel dismissed with a shake of his head, making her quirk a skeptical eyebrow. "We won't be able to meet in person much, but you'll always have back-up nearby." He continued on, changing the subject. "The team's gonna have to lay low – if SAMCRO sees too many new faces around town they're gonna get suspicious, and the _last _thing we need is this blowing back in our faces."

Since it was clear Joel wasn't going to give her anymore information, she decided to let it drop for now. "We'll find a way to work it out." She told him.

"Here, take this." He instructed, dropping the small panic button into her hand. "Remember, if there's an emergency – _any _emergency – then someone, probably _me_, will be here." Joel promised with a no-nonsense expression. "Understand?"

Dana smiled and nodded. "You got it. Thank you."

"Don't mention it…_Prejean._" He said with a smirk, patting her shoulder before turning to help Jenkins gather up their equipment.

Dana leaned against the front door and stared at nothing in particular, listening to the sounds of the now departing moving van and, with it, her fellow agents. For a moment she wasn't sure what exactly she was supposed to do now that she was alone in her new, eerily silent home – it was just barely seven thirty at night and she felt as though she had all the time in the world in her hands. And try as she might, Dana couldn't remember having this much free-time before…it was odd, and a little overwhelming. Finally, once the van was out of her hearing range, she pushed away from the door and headed for the bedroom, deciding it would probably be in her best interest to start working on the investigation at hand. After all, there was a _lot _of work to be done if she wanted to take down an organization as elusive as SAMCRO.

Once she'd retrieved the box from her bedroom that was filled with her personal effects, Dana planted herself down in front of the computer, set the box on the floor and opened it up – inside sat the two files Peters had given her, a bottle of whiskey and some tumbler glasses, as well as numerous notepads and pens and one framed picture that was currently resting face-down. Dana snatched up a notepad and pen first, then the whiskey and a tumbler glass.

"Okay…" Dana breathed as she settled in.

Then, after she had poured herself a drink, she pulled the cap off of the pen and began to scribble away –

_Find out what Bonnie-Jean knows about agents/SAMCRO_

_Have to find job – preferably one that results in contact with SAMCRO members_

_See what can be found out from town's people_

Dana paused and tapped the pen on the notepad for a second or two, trying to think of anymore important obstacles she needed to overcome in the near future, before pursing her lips and writing with exaggerated precision –

_**Find out how to get the HELL into that damned clubhouse.**_

After that was written, she drew a long line to section the small list off from the rest of the paper before leaning back in her chair and turning her eyes up to the surveillance screens, hand poised and ready to begin taking notes.

"Alright boys…" Dana murmured to herself, watching the screen with rapt attention as one of the hidden cameras caught two unsuspecting SAMCRO members smoking cigarettes outside the front of the clubhouse. "Show me somethin' good..."

* * *

**Tell me what you think!**


	3. A Day For Surprises

**Just so everyone knows, I went and made a few alterations to the last chapter. I didn't change much, but if anything from this chapter confuses anyone that might be the reason. Check it out if ya want.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

* * *

_**A Day For Surprises**_

Dana glanced at her watch, saw that the time read _11:57, _and mentally cursed at herself before brushing her teeth with more speed.

She had agreed over text-messaging to head into town with Bonnie-Jean at noon, and normally this would _not _have proven a difficult appointment to keep – Dana was usually awake, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as soon as the sun was up. But _today_ she'd slept _far _later then usual, and this was due in part to that fact that she'd been glued to her surveillance screens well into the night, yet also partially because being away from the noisy, busy city seemed to have _actually _done her a bit of good; last night had been the best night of sleep she'd had in a _very _longtime. She'd fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and had slept like the dead until waking just five minutes previous.

After finishing brushing her teeth, she pulled her sleep-mussed, copper-colored hair into a haphazardly done pony-tail, then dashed back into the bedroom to rifle through her yet-to-be-unpacked clothes. Articles of clothing were tossed out of the way without care until she had located a pair of jeans, a clean bra, and a black, button-up blouse. Once dressed and ready for the day she hurried over to her nightstand and opened the top drawer, pulling out the small, silver cell-phone Joel had given her the day before; Dana switched it from 'ringer' to 'vibrate' then slipped it into her back pocket. She paused to eye the small safe that was also in the drawer, contemplating whether or not she should take her gun with her, then firmly shut the drawer again when she decided against it.

Dana checked her watch again – _12:01. _

She pursed her lips for a moment, knowing good and well that she needed to get moving, but simply could not resist popping into the study for a quick second to check on her surveillance screens – Cara Cara (the porn studio/gentleman's club/bar), though busy the night before, now seemed uneventful. The camera pointed at the SAMCRO clubhouse only showed a few questionably dressed women who were making their way out of the clubhouse, obviously still recuperating from the party the night before. Dana's attention was then quickly drawn to Teller-Morrow Automotive, which was bustling and busy with a new workday.

Dana expanded the Teller-Morrow screen until it took up her entire monitor, eyeing the mechanics moving about as they spoke with customers, tended to cars, or worked on their Harleys. Most wore the typical uniform of a Teller-Morrow mechanic – a grimy looking, khaki-colored shirt and ratty blue-jeans – and seemed like they were going about their business as usual. It was the number of leather-clad men near a row of motorcycles that caught her interest, however – they were all standing in a circle and, from what she could see, appeared to be having an intense looking conversation. She immediately reached for her notepad and pen before hastily scribbling down the time and making a few last-minute notes, keeping her eyes trained on the screen.

_**Sunday April 17**__**th**__**, 12:02pm**__ – SAMCRO members having important looking discussion outside Teller-Morrow. _Dana leaned forward, squinting to try and get a better look at the grainy, slightly distorted features of the men facing the hidden camera. _Currently present: Bobby Elvis, Tig Trager, and Jackson Teller, as well as four unknown others. _

Then she watched as Teller and two of the other unidentifiable men began hugging various members of the group, before they broke off from the others and headed for their motorcycles. Dana quickly made note of this on her notepad then reached for the phone in her back pocket, flipping it open and quickly typing a message to Joel.

_Jackson Teller and two other SAMCRO members rolling out of Teller-Morrow right now. Can we get eyes on them? _A minute later the phone in her hand vibrated, signaling a response. _On it_, was Joel's simple response – after a few seconds, the phone vibrated again. _Earpiece and mic in the mailbox. Wear them today. Peters' orders._

Dana immediately frowned, hoping that Carl Peters wasn't planning to yap away in her ear all day, then slipped the phone into her back pocket again. She watched the screen for a lingering moment before reaching over and turning off her monitor – every ounce of her wanted to stay and keep an eye on Teller-Morrow, just to see what the Sons of Anarchy got up to on bright, sunny days like today, but Dana diligently forced herself to continue on. She'd have ample opportunity to spy on SAMCRO later, when they were less on their guard and enjoying their late-night activities; for now, she had a job to do. It was time to concentrate on being social with the locals and start integrating herself into Charming.

Besides, maybe if Dana was lucky enough then she just might run into the Sons themselves while out and about. A small town like this? She wouldn't be the _least_ bit surprised if she and the bikers ended up crossing paths at _one _point or another…

* * *

" – and if you're lookin' for the highest quality groceries in town, look no further." Bonnie-Jean announced grandly as she pulled her Honda into an empty parking space. "Maybe not the _cheapest _place to shop, but certainly the best. Have no doubt, Charming Food Market is the bee's-knees, sugar."

Dana nodded her head to show her understanding, smiling over at Bonnie-Jean. She had to somewhat admire the woman for the amount of pride she seemed to take in her hometown – nearly every shop the blonde had shown her thus far, from the hair salon to the florist, had been dubbed 'the bee's-knees' (or something to that extent). "I'll take your word for it."

The two women exited the car at the same time, but Dana didn't immediately head for the entrance of the grocery store like Bonnie-Jean did. She lingered by the car for a moment, watching with interest as a white news van went driving past, before hurrying to catch up with Bonnie-Jean when the woman called out to her. The bright smile on her new neighbor's face never dulled in the slightest as she threw an arm around Dana's shoulder and guided her inside – the gesture made her feel a bit uncomfortable, but the redhead somehow managed _not_ to comment on the invasion of her personal space.

Their arrival was announced with a crisp _BING, _which in turn prompted the man working behind the register to greet them with a loud, chipper voice.

"Bonnie-Jean Dupree!" The portly cashier called out with a grin, waving a large hand at them. "I know its gonna be a goodday if _you_ show your pretty face 'round these parts." He then complimented her. "How are you, my dear?"

Bonnie-Jean made a show of the flattery she felt in light of the man's compliment, fanning herself for a moment before ushering Dana over towards the counter. "Frank Martin, you ol' charmer you." Bonnie-Jean told him in a girlish voice, reaching over the counter to push his shoulder teasingly. "I'm just fine. How about you? How's business treating you?"

"Very well, can't complain _too _much." Frank confirmed. "How's business at the bar? Still rakin' in the dough?"

The blonde let out an unladylike snort in response before chuckling to herself in amusement. "Oh yes, just fine, just fine_._" She said as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Though the ex-husband may turn up _dead _someday soon – I honestly don't know howI've done it all these years." Then a conspiratorial grin spread across Bonnie-Jean's face. "So, to drive _him _as crazy as he drives _me_, I decided to take a little break from work. Leave _him_ in charge of things for a change."

"Ahhhh, I see. So while he mans the bar and deals with the drunkards, you just go to test the goods, chat up the patrons, and reap the benefits?" Frank teased – though he was currently speaking to Bonnie-Jean, his eyes continued to shift over towards Dana in obvious curiosity. She just smiled at him politely so as not to interrupt their conversation.

"You've got it." Bonnie-Jean answered him with a wink. "Work a little, play hard – isn't that right?" She joked, rephrasing the quote to fit her situation better.

"In _your_ case maybe." Frank chuckled, shaking his head for a moment before shifting his gaze over to Dana. "Hello, there. I don't believe we've met before." He stated, focusing his full attention on the redhead now. "I'm Frank Martin, owner of Charming Food Market." He introduced himself, extending a hand. "And you are…?"

"Dana Prejean." She answered politely, shaking his hand. "I just moved in across the street from Bonnie-Jean."

"Yep, she's my new neighbor." Bonnie-Jean confirmed. "Just moved here from _Los Angeles._" She added, raising her eyebrows at Frank.

Frank's own eyebrows shot up almost instantly in surprise. "Los Angeles? Far way from home, aren't ya?"

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit like Dorothy dropped into Oz." Dana joked, making Frank and Bonnie-Jean both laugh. "But Charming seems alright so far. Different, but not horrible."

Frank waved a hand, though he seemed pleased with her apparent 'approval' of Charming. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get used to being in a small town soon enough. People are pretty friendly here for the most part…they're just also a bit _nosy_,too. But after a while – "

Though Frank continued on with whatever he was currently telling her, his words fell on deaf ears – in the next moment Dana's attention was quickly diverted elsewhere as a foreign voice sounded in her ear.

_Hey, Bradshaw…_ It required all of her self-control not to start in surprise at the sound of Joel's voice, the earpiece in her ear having remained lifeless for so long that she'd all but forgotten it was even in her ear the begin with. _Teller and co. are officially out of Charming but we're not a hundred percent sure where they're off to. We had to pull surveillance so we wouldn't get caught tailing. Looks like they were headed towards Oakland, though. _

Dana reached up to press the earpiece more securely into place, trying to hide her sudden surprise – it seemed a talk with Joel was in order. If she was going to wear this damned earpiece then they were going to _have_ to come up with a better approach to establishing contact; it wouldn't do her (or anybody) any good if she was having the daylights scared out of her everyday…_then _Joel's words actually registered in her head. _Teller left Charming?, _she wondered inwardly, forgetting about her moment of shock completely and frowning to herself in puzzlement. What had prompted Teller to suddenly leave town? Was it for business and, if so, what _kind _of business? Dana cursed inwardly, wishing that they'd been able to keep _some _sort of surveillance on –

A nudge to her side quickly brought her back to the present and Dana forced herself to focus in on the uncertain, questioning expressions on both Frank and Bonnie-Jean's faces. "What was that again?" She asked, mentally berating herself for having let herself become distracted and break character. When the blonde and the cashier shared a look, Dana quickly began damage-control. "I'm sorry." She apologized with a light laugh. "I'm a little out of it today. Still a bit tired from the move, I think."

The two seemed to buy the excuse, because the odd looks faded from their features and shifted to that of understanding as pair nodded their heads. "Of course." Frank readily agreed. "Moving's no easy feat."

"No, not at all." Bonnie-Jean reiterated with a click of her tongue.

"I'll let you two get on with your business." Frank announced, nodding his head in Dana's direction with a friendly smile. "And everything you buy today is half-off, little lady. My welcoming gift to you."

Dana blinked in surprise, a genuine smile of gratitude turning her lips upwards without her even realizing it – when was the last time anyone had done something kind for her without expecting something in return? Dana couldn't remember…in fact, she was beginning to think that had _never _happened before. "Thank you, Frank. That's really nice." She said, feeling rather touched with the stranger's kind gesture.

"Don't mention it." He said before shifting his attention to a woman that had just come to check out. "Mrs. Martha, a very good afternoon to you..."

"Alright…" Bonnie-Jean said as the two moved away from the register. "We'll probably need a cart – "

"I'll go grab it." Dana immediately offered with a smile, seeing her chance for a moment of privacy and instantly taking advantage of it. The agent headed off before the blonde could stop her, only shooting one glance over her shoulder to make sure Bonnie-Jean hadn't followed her before speaking. "Here's an idea – try _not _to scare the _shit _out of me, Matheson." She hissed once she was sure nobody was within hearing range, even lowering her head so she could speak more clearly into the microphone hidden in her bra.

_Sorry, Dorothy, _Joel responded – he sounded more amused then he did apologetic. A beat of silence passed before he spoke again. _So…Bonnie-Jean say anything about me yet?_

Dana rolled her eyes and chose to ignore him, quickly collecting a cart before rejoining her neighbor. "Ready." She announced, ignoring Joel's laughter in her ear and letting Bonnie-Jean begin to lead her around the store.

For a couple of minutes Dana travelled along with her companion in silence, watching as Bonnie-Jean waved to a few more people she knew. When a mental image of Peters formed in her head, instructing her to '_Make friends with the locals', _she decided to strike up conversation. "So…" Dana started, catching the blonde's attention. "An ex-husband, huh?" Dana asked curiously.

"Oh yes." Bonnie-Jean confirmed with short laugh. "My _second _ex-husband, I'm afraid, but definitely the bigger pain in my ass."

Dana couldn't help but smirk in amusement – she definitely knew a thing or two about pain-in-the-ass ex-husbands. "Why's that?"

"Because I made the mistake of goin' into business with this one." Bonnie-Jean revealed with a long sigh. "_Never _go into business with your future husband, Dana." She instructed sternly, even pointing at her with her index finger. "No, wait…" Bonnie-Jean thought about it for a moment. "Just don't get married to begin with_._"

Dana shook her head in amusement before reaching out to grab a bottle of wine and putting it in her cart. "Too late." She said matter-of-factly once she'd faced Bonnie-Jean again – the blonde's face instantly took on an expression of interest after hearing Dana's revelation. "That advice sure would have been nice _before_ I took that trip down the aisle."

"Is that it then?" Bonnie-Jean asked, her eyes already taking on the sympathetic gleam that Dana had hoped her story would induce – _One point to Dana_, the redhead mentally congratulated herself. "Did you come out here to get away from your ex-husband?" When Dana nodded in confirmation, Bonnie-Jean immediately moved around her to grab two more bottles of wine. "Sugar, this calls for _way _more then one bottle of wine."

Dana immediately laughed. "I like your style, Bonnie-Jean." She complimented, before the two continued on.

The rest of their shopping trip was spent in casual conversation, their chat only pausing here or there whenever Bonnie-Jean would herd Dana around to introduce her to people she knew. The blonde did pry some on the subject of her ex-husband, to which Dana responded both with truths _and_ with lies – she told her they had been married for two and a half years (lie), that they had met because they worked together (truth), that her divorce had _just _been finalized a few weeks previous (lie) and that her ex had divorced her because he'd fallen in love with someone else (sort-of-a-truth). In return she learned that Bonnie-Jean had split from _her _ex-husband after she'd caught him with another (and much _younger_) woman; they'd shelved the topic of exes after that, agreeing to go into more detail about it once they could crack open a bottle of wine.

Though making friends with other women wasn't usually her forte, and despite having previously cringed at the idea of girl-talk with another female, Dana had to admit that the more she talked to Bonnie-Jean, the more possible it seemed that she _just_ might be able to like her. Sure the woman was a bit gossipy and sort of loud, but other then that she seemed as harmless as a fly. And something told Dana that having a woman like Bonnie-Jean as her friend could _only_ mean good things.

They wrapped up their shopping excursion about thirty minutes later, with Dana paying _far _less for her trip then she felt comfortable with, and toted the groceries back out to Bonnie-Jeans Honda.

"Town tour – check. Groceries – check." Bonnie-Jean listed off as they stowed Dana's groceries away in the trunk. "What next?" She asked. Then a look of excitement passed over her face. "We should get our nails done after we drop off your groceries!" She suggested with an adamant nodding of her head.

Dana pursed her lips then shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass." She told her regretfully. "I've still got _a lot _to do…" _Like spy on SAMCRO, _Dana added in her head. "Another time, maybe?"

_Make friends, _Joel's reminding voice sounded in her ear. He didn't say anything more then that, however.

Bonnie-Jean nodded in understanding. "Sure, sure." She said, smiling at her for a moment before tilting her head to the side in a questioning manner. "What do you need to do?" Bonnie-Jean asked. "Anything I can help you with?"

"I still need to keep unpacking, arrange the house some…" Dana listed off, placing a few more bags in the trunk. "But I can handle all of that." She told her pointedly. Bonnie-Jean might be an alright lady, but that didn't mean Dana wanted her snooping around in her house. "I _do _still have to find a job_, _though." She added with a note of disdain. _That _was something she was _not _looking forward to – the idea of starting a new job, even if it was only temporary, left her cringing.

"Ahhh…a job." Bonnie-Jean nodded in understanding. "You didn't look for anything before you came here?"

Dana shook her head. "I didn't really have time." She admitted, which was the truth. Packing up her entire apartment over the span of just a few days had left her with no time to research potential jobs, and the only suggestion _Peters_ had given her was to work at Cara Cara, which she had firmly rejected – he wanted her to get a job in the lion's den after only a few days in town? _And _while SAMCRO was probably on high-alert? Dana would be the first to admit that she had her moments of recklessness, but she certainly didn't have a _death wish._

Bonnie-Jean made a thoughtful noise, looking pensieve for a moment, before turning a questioning look on her – she took a moment to eye Dana up and down. "Ever bar-tend before?"

Dana, who had been reaching for a grocery bag, paused and nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, back when I was in college." She answered, telling Bonnie-Jean the truth. "It's been a while since I've been behind the bar, but I think I could still manage…why? Do you know a place hiring?" Bartending didn't sound so horrible. And it was better then working at a place like Cara Cara, right?

A bright smile lit up Bonnie-Jean's face as she grabbed the last bag, tucked it away with the others, then slammed the trunk closed. "Why, sugar, I believe I do." She told her with an air of mystery.

* * *

Dana turned her eyes up to the large sign overhead as she shut the door to Bonnie-Jean's Honda, her eyebrow quirking up in question. "Billy Goat Gruff?" She asked aloud, putting a voice to the curiosity she felt within. Not only was it an odd name for a bar, but it was also a _familiar _name – why did Dana feel as though she had heard of this bar before? "Kind of a weird name."

_That is weird, _Joel agreed in her ear. Since he'd been interjecting little comments like this here or there since the grocery store, she was starting to grow accustomed to the sound of his voice in her head – it was a bit annoying, though, like an evasive fly that kept buzzing around her head.

"True." Bonnie-Jean agreed with a helpless shrug. "_He _picked it out. Hardly anyone knows this, but its a tribute to his stupid little goatee." She revealed with a roll of her eyes. "All the men in his family have one – 'its tradition'." She explained, using her fingers to make air-quotes.

The pieces of the puzzle immediately clicked together, causing Dana to look over at Bonnie-Jean with raised eyebrows. "This is _your _bar?"

"Yep, this is it!" Bonnie-Jean confirmed, brightening up again and spreading her arms wide as though presenting the bar to Dana as a present. "Billy Goat Gruff – the pride and joy of Charming, California, owned and operated by the _former_ Mr. and Mrs. Harry Dupree."

There was that feeling again, that nagging sensation in the back of her mind telling her that there was something familiar about the name. _Harry Dupree?, _Dana repeated in her head._ Where have I heard that name before?_ Though Dana now found herself with a few unanswered questions, she forced herself to push past her perplexity and focus in on the present – Bonnie-Jean was already unlocking the front door and walking into the bar. The undercover agent hurried to catch up with her.

As had been the case at the grocery store, they received a loud greeting when they walked into Billy Goat Gruff…only this one was much different from the one Frank Martin had offered them.

"Oh lord." Said a dark-haired man occupying one of the tables. He looked to be a bit older then Bonnie-Jean, had a thick goatee on his chin, and had a broad build to him – the man, whom she assumed was Harry Dupree, was actually sort of attractive if you looked at him for long enough. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it and I _don't care._" He stated, shifting his attention away from the papers in front of him and holding his hands up defensively.

"Relax, Harry." Bonnie-Jean chastised, looking unaffected by his reaction to her presence. "I didn't come to _nag _at you."

"For _once _in my life." Harry shot back at his ex-wife grumpily. Then he turned a look on Dana, giving her a once over before quirking an eyebrow. "Who's this?" He asked bluntly.

Dana started to introduce herself but Bonnie-Jean cut her off, plastering on a sweet smile as she leaned over the table a bit and batted her eyelashes at Harry – he pulled a face, regarding her like she had some sort of contagious infection. "I've found the solution to all our problems, Harry-kins." She stated in the same girlish voice she'd used on Frank Martin. "Darlin', meet Dana Prejean." The blonde then announced, straightening up so she could throw an arm around Dana's shoulders – Dana waved at him a bit awkwardly. "She's gonna be our new bartender."

Both Harry _and _Dana blinked in surprise – that was it? Bonnie-Jean was just going to give her a job like that, without even a second thought? "Whoa, whoa, woman. We can't just hire people willy-nilly. First off, she _looks _like a school teacher – " Harry began to protest.

Dana frowned, looking down at her attire for a moment and feeling a bit insulted. "I did _not _hire her willy-nilly. I figure since Kirsten got herself _knocked_ _up_ – " Bonnie-Jean started to argue back.

Dana pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress her growing amusement, standing helplessly by as the former couple immediately began to bicker at one another. She started to look around as Bonnie-Jean and Harry both battled to get the upperhand, taking in the sights of the bar as a means of distraction – there were three pool-tables toward the back, a large jukebox on the left wall, and two shuffleboards right in the center, surrounded by numerous bar tables. It looked like your typical man-cave, save for a few feminine touches in sporadic places.

Her eyes swung back to the arguing duo when Harry quickly got to his feet, causing his chair to scrape loudly against the wooden floorboards. "Bonnie-Jean, may I speak to you in private?" He asked through gritted teeth. He then pointed towards the back room, flashed a pinched smile in Dana's direction, and stormed off.

Bonnie-Jean heaved and flashed Dana an apologetic look. "See what I put up with?" She asked. Then she started off in the direction Harry had gone. "I'll be right back."

Dana crossed her arms, suddenly finding herself very much alone. For a moment she merely stood there, glancing to the right first, then to the left, before deducing that there were no other workers present at the moment. Seeing the golden opportunity now before her, she quickly seized it.

"Hey, Matheson?" Dana asked quietly, meandering a little further away from the room Harry and Bonnie-Jean had just entered, just in case.

_Yeah? _Joel responded.

"Does the name Harry Dupree mean anything to you?"

Joel's end remained silent as he thought this question over. _Not really, though he seems like a barrel of sunshine, _he finally answered. _Why?_

Dana shook her head to herself, releasing a long heave as she tried to work through her own thoughts – had she _heard _the name? Or had she _read _the name in something? Why did she feel like she was missing something? "It just…it rings a bell for some reason, though I can't think of a reason why."

_I'll start snooping around, see if I can find anything on him, _Joel told her.

The earpiece in her ear went silent after that and Dana began to wander aimlessly through the bar, her mind concentrated and working furiously to figure out this new riddle before Bonnie-Jean and Harry returned. Her eyes surveyed the bar as she walked, though she hardly acknowledged what she was seeing in her distraction – perhaps, Dana considered, she had seen his name in one of the files that Peters had given to her. She remembered that there had been names of the eyewitnesses to the attack on Mayor Wilson in some of the notes, but, try as she might, could not recall even one. She wished now that she had paid more attention, especially if there was a potential that she might be on the verge of working for one of them.

Dana paused as she reached the large bar stretching along the right side of the building. Near the register and hanging on the wall were a number of framed certificates, a framed one dollar bill (the first dollar the business had ever made), and a clustering of personal photographs. She stepped closer to look at them, glancing at a picture of a slightly-younger Harry Dupree and someone who might be a daughter or niece, before shifting her attention to an old-looking photograph of partying teenagers. The agent inspected the pictures for a moment longer, on the verge of moving on and finding herself a seat somewhere, when she saw it.

It felt like time had come to a stand-still. Her eyebrows came together as she leaned closer, attempting to get a clearer look at a recent-looking photograph of Dupree and one other man – like Dupree the man had dark hair, though his was curly, and he was broad but not overly built with a goatee on his chin. As Dana felt her heart thud against her ribs, she immediately recognized the other man in the picture.

Tig Trager.

She remembered the moment she had seen Harry Dupree's name with such clarity that it felt as though she'd travelled back in time and was reliving the moment. His name had popped up in the scant amount of information that the missing FBI agents had been able to dig up before disappearing – they had come to _this _bar, Billy Goat Gruff, to try and question Harry Dupree, who was Tig Trager's cousin. Their attempt, quite obviously, had proven unsuccessful.

"Holy shit, Joel – Dupree is Tig Trager's fucking _cousin._" She hissed quickly, her heart pounding with excitement. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – _how_ had she gotten this lucky?

_Are you shitting me? _Joel asked at once.

"No. I swear to _God_ he's Trager's cousin – the missing FBI agents mentioned him in their notes." Dana whispered in excitement. "This is _perfect_!"

_Hold your horses, Bradshaw, _Joel suggested steadily. _This is great news, but don't get ahead of yourself. First I have to get Peters' approval and then _you _have to actually get the job._

Dana immediately frowned, her excitement deflating. Why was she the only one excited about this? It was as if the damned _stars _had lined up, for God's sake. As though SAMCRO was being served to her on a silver platter – did he not understand how monumental this moment was? "Why _wouldn't _Peters approve of this?" She asked in an incredulous hiss.

_Well…_Joel hesitated. _He's _really _pushing for Cara Cara…_

"And I already told him no." Dana countered firmly. "I was told to find a job – _any _job – and now I've found one that may put me in direct contact with SAMCRO. I think even _Peters _would see the potential in that. I'm taking the job." She finished with a note of defiance.

_Remember what Peters said about not arguing? _He reminded her impatiently. _About following orders? _

Dana opened her mouth to say something equally as impatient in return, but immediately snapped her lips shut again when she heard a door open. Though Joel continued to yammer away in her ear, she carefully concealed all of the annoyance that had suddenly risen up and turned to face Harry and Bonnie-Jean as they made their way toward her – Harry had a begrudging expression on his face while Bonnie-Jean looked as though she might start skipping with joy.

"Hello, Dana." Harry greeted her in an obviously forced, but cordial tone – Joel finally stopped lecturing away in her ear, seemingly realizing that she was back in the company of Bonnie-Jean and Harry. "I'm Harry Dupree." He went on to formally introduce himself, extending a hand in her direction.

"Dana Prejean, a pleasure to meet you." She reciprocated with a smile, shaking his hand – now that she knew Trager was his cousin, she could easily see the family resemblance. "I was just admiring your bar. Nice place." She complimented, laying the charm on just a tad-bit thicker.

Harry smiled at her, though it was another pinched one. "Thanks." He then sighed, shot a look at Bonnie-Jean over his shoulder, and turned back towards Dana. "My…_esteemed colleague…_has informed me that you're new in town and that you need a job." He told her, sounding as though he were rehearsing a speech.

"Yes, sir." She answered – it felt odd to call Harry Dupree 'sir', since Carl Peters was usually the only person she referred to as such. "I've got a bit of money saved up but that won't last forever."

"No, it won't." He agreed. "And lucky for _you, _we just lost one of our girls to maternity leave. So if you're free tomorrow around five, I'd be happy to interview you for the open bartending position." Dupree stated, instantly making her celebrate on the inside. "Interested?"

"I am." Dana said without hesitation – Joel heaved in her ear, but she chose to ignore it. "Thank you, sir."

"Call me Dupree or call me Harry, but not that. 'Sir' makes me feel old." He instructed. After Dana nodded her understanding, Dupree crossed his arms and rounded on Bonnie-Jean. "Happy now? _Darling?_"

Bonnie-Jean nodded and leaned over to smack an exaggerated kiss against his cheek. "Very." She said before releasing him and choosing to stand by Dana instead – Dupree didn't attempt to wipe off the lipstick now decorating his cheek, merely watch his ex-wife with flat expression. "I love to torture him." Bonnie-Jean muttered in Dana's ear. Then she smiled at Dupree. "Now we've got to run, I'm afraid. There's cold groceries in the car."

Dupree instantly looked relieved – it seemed he couldn't get away from his ex-wife fast enough. "Good, get going." He dismissed before nodding at Dana. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Prejean."

"I'll see you at five, Dupree." Dana confirmed.

* * *

Much later that night, long after her shopping trip with Bonnie-Jean and the fateful introduction of Harry Dupree, Dana sat cross-legged on the floor of her study with a glass of wine in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. Her trusty cork-board, which had been brought along for the trip, was propped up against the wall and already filled up with the notes she'd been making since being given the case – there were a number of new ones that had been added to the board that day though, all of them centered around Harry Dupree, Billy Goat Gruff, and Tig Trager.

The redhead finished scribbling down a few more things before sitting back to admire her handiwork. She took a long drink from her wine, smacking her lips in appreciation and feeling quite proud of herself, then glanced towards her computer desk when a loud _BEEP _sounded in the air. Dana didn't feel the need to rush toward it just yet, knowing it was probably just Joel trying to smooth things over between them, and shifted her eyes back toward the cork-board.

It almost seemed too good to be true. Dana had come to Charming without _any _idea on how to get close to SAMCRO, and then _bam – _an opportunity had presented itself so fast that it had damn near bowled her over. Obviously Dupree and Trager had to be close with one another, otherwise the missing FBI agents wouldn't have paid attention to the bartender in the first place. And if they were close then it was a likely possibility that the Sons would come around – all she needed was to get close to _one _member of SAMCRO and she'd be in, and she'd be _golden_.

Her phone beeped again, making her let out a frustrated groan and haul herself up to her feet. She took another drink of wine as she grabbed the phone, already frowning to herself despite having not read the messages awaiting her yet. _Sons have returned from Oakland but without Teller. No sight of him, _the first message read. The second said, _Pitched the possibility of BGG to Peters, he'll make a decision after your interview tomorrow – all the paperwork you need will be in your mailbox by 7am._

Dana sighed to herself – at least he was _considering_ it. If nothing else, that was a step in the right direction.

She had just set her wine down and was beginning to type out a response when an unexpected, but strangely familiar noise reached her ears.

It had been _years _since she'd heard it, but it was the roar of a motorcycle engine, she knew that well. There had been countless times in her childhood where she had stayed up late into the night, lingering by her window and waiting to hear the tell-tale sound of her father returning home on his loud motorcycle. There would always be a berating from her mother anytime she was caught staying up past her bedtime, but on the occasions that her father _did _come home while she was still awake, it made getting into trouble worth it – Dana would run out of her room, dash over to him, and hug him around his waist in greeting every single time. But that, of course, was back when she had still worshipped the ground her father walked on and when he had still been apart of her life.

Dana had to shake her head to try and clear away the memories of her father; it had been _years _since she'd allowed herself to recall old childhood memories. And honestly, it didn't really leave her with a good feeling to do so now – the ever-present anger towards her father was there, yes, but there was also a strange tinge of sadness knowing those days were long gone…something she hadn't felt in many, many years.

The loud rumbling of the motorcycle finally pulled her back to reality – it was so loud that she felt as though it had stopped in her very _house _and was vibrating off of her bones. Dana pushed down the swell of emotions that had risen within and quickly exited the study, heading for her kitchen to investigate. The reverberating sound of the motorcycle grew louder with each step she took, then finally cut off just as she reached the kitchen. Thankful that it was dark and that it would be hard to spot her, Dana headed for the window and moved a single blind out of the way to get a look at the new arrival.

For the second time that day, Dana was shocked to the core.

Long blonde hair, blonde beard, and eyes that she couldn't see but that she knew would be blue – Jackson Teller. She'd looked at the man's picture at least a dozen in the past two days alone, so recognizing him was not difficult. She watched, with dawning comprehension, as he went down to the end of the driveway to check the mailbox. "Holy _shit…_" She muttered to herself, her eyes darting from the mail in his hands, to his leather cut, and then to the keys in his hand as she rapidly pieced all of the facts together. Teller rifled uncaringly through the mail as he headed for the front door, clearly not noticing the fact that he had a new neighbor and unaware that he was being watched – he only paused to unlock the door, then disappeared inside.

Dana slowly moved away from the kitchen window, unable to grasp onto any other thought but this one, _Peters moved me in next door to __**Jackson Teller**__. And nobody told me. _

_That_ must have been what Joel had tried to tell her the day before, and that _certainly _explained why they'd loaded her down with panic buttons. One mistake and Jackson Teller could easily bust down her door and blow her head off. This whole time that she'd been trying to think of how _not _to throw herself directly into the lion's den, had been trying to keep herself _out _of immediate danger, she'd been none the wiser that her attempts had been in vain – Peters had forced her into the snake-pit anyway by moving her in next door to Teller.

And Dana knew damn well there was _nothing _she could do about it.

"Son of a _bitch_."

* * *

**Believable? Horrible? Liking the way this is going? Let me know!**

**Remember, if things seem too good to be true…you just may find that, well, they **_**are.**_


	4. And So It Begins

**I just want to say thank you to **_**everyone **_**who reviews! I love feedback and I always smile when I get that alert. Keep 'em comin'! Oh, and hopefully this will be the last of the "setting up" chapters! Cross your fingers!**

**I never thought I'd use the word "boombox" in a story (or ever, really…) but I sure did in this one. Oooooold schooooool.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

_**And So It Begins**_

_In the driveway of their house sat two people. One of them was a man of average height and build, with wavy, brown hair that brushed his shoulders, a thick beard, and bright blue eyes – his arms and back were decorated with numerous tattoos, accompanied with the occasional scar here or there; at the moment he was working on his Harley and smoking a cigar while Johnny Cash sounded from the boombox nearby. __The other person was a child, the man's soon to be five-year-old daughter. There were freckles dotting her nose, she had wavy, copper-colored hair down to her elbows, and eyes almost identical to her father's. The girl was wearing the much-too-large-for-her, slightly-tattered denim cut that belonged to her father – emblazoned on the back was a large wheel with two tridents crossing over it; the words "DEVILS DICIPLES" and "SOCAL" could be read above and below the motorcycle club's logo. _

_The man finally shifted his eyes away from his motorcycle to peer at his daughter, who had been staring at him with arms crossed over her chest and a bratty pout on her cute face for at least a half-hour now. For a moment it looked like there might have been a smirk of amusement on his face, but his thick beard made it hard to tell. Regardless, his stare was soon a stern one, and he set his tools down unhurriedly before taking the cigar out of his mouth. _

"_The answer is still no." Curtis Bradshaw said in a calm voice. _

_All it took was those five words to send the girl into another fit – within moments she had uncrossed her arms and thrown them up in frustration, her pout immediately shifting into a frown. "But __**daaaaddyyy**_ –_" She began to whine. _

"_That's enough of that." He interrupted firmly, the disciplinarian within emerging and immediately making the child fall silent – she pressed her lips together tightly and crossed her arms again, but the fire in her eyes made it obvious she was still not happy with her father. "I've told you a hundred times – you're not gettin' on this bike 'til you're six." _

"_But __**Brannon**_ _got to when __**he**__ was five!" _

"_Yeah, but he's a boy." Curtis responded. _

"_So?!" The girl argued right back, the stubborn-streak that she'd inherited from her father brazenly rearing its head._

_Curtis heaved and shook his head. "It's just different." _

"_But how is it – "_

"_Stella Dana Bradshaw." The man finally snapped in a harsh tone, having reached the end of his patience. "That is __**enough**__. When I say no I mean __**no**__ – and you do __**not**_ _talk back to me, do you understand?" _

_Dana – who was only ever called Stella by her father – fell silent again. For a long moment she met her angry father's stare with wide, doe-like eyes, until finally turning her eyes downward. When she sniffled and raised a hand up to wipe away a tear that had trickled down her cheek, Curtis sucked in a steadying breath before turning his eyes up to the sky in exasperation. When he looked down at his daughter again, there was an obvious look of guilt that had replaced the anger on his features – he finally set his cigar down and stepped around his Harley, scooping up the young girl with ease before depositing her on the hood of the family's pick-up truck. _

"_Stella…" He said with a sigh, placing a knuckle underneath her small chin and tilting her face upward – her blue eyes were red-rimmed and glossy with the sheen of forming tears when she met his gaze, and even a man as tough as Curtis Bradshaw couldn't find it in himself to remain impassive to such a sight. "Please don't cry." He half pleaded, wrapping the small girl up in his arms and hugging her to his chest. _

"_I j-just want t-to ride…" Dana whimpered into her father's shirt. "Its all I w-want for my b-birthday…"_

_Curtis sighed again, propping his chin up on top of her red hair. It was clear he was contemplating giving in to his youngest child and allowing her a ride around the neighborhood on the back of his bike – it had been a treat for his son on __**his **__fifth birthday, and it was what his daughter now wanted for hers. He finally pulled back far enough so he could look her in the eye again, an unreadable expression on his face as he regarded her. With another sigh, he wiped away some of the tears streaking her cheeks._

"_**Please**__, daddy?" She continued, obviously sensing his internal battle and looking at him with those doe-like eyes again. "I won't tell momma, promise! I wont tell Bran neither! And I won't ask for __**nothin'**__ else!"_

_Curtis turned his gaze away for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fine." He said, clearly unable to believe she'd managed to sway his decision – Dana immediately squealed in excitement. "But it's __**our**__ secret." He added sharply, pointing a stern finger at her – she nodded her head and placed her tiny index finger over her lips, silently assuring him she would remain mum on the situation. When she then extended a small pinky-finger in his direction, Curtis smirked and locked his own pinky around hers, sealing the deal. "You're gonna be a __**real **__ball-buster someday, kid…"_

It was the loud beep of her phone that woke Dana.

She blinked in confusion for a moment, feeling a bit disoriented, then reached towards her nightstand to blindly search for the offensive device. Once it was in her grasp she flipped the phone open – when she saw that it was yet another message from Joel (and that it was barely seven-thirty in the morning), Dana huffed and clicked the phone shut without reading the text, before dropping it back onto the nightstand.

Unlike her first night's sleep in Charming, which had been nothing short of peaceful and revitalizing, the past night had not been a very pleasant one. Knowing that she was now living next door to one of the men she was investigating had left Dana feeling so uneasy, not to mention that she had been _so _irritated with her team for keeping her in the dark about Jackson Teller, that obtaining rest had seemed like an impossible feat altogether – she'd tossed and turned for hours before finally falling asleep, but, even then, had awoken several times throughout the night whenever an unexpected noise sounded outside or somewhere in the house.

The redhead sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Now that she was a bit more awake and thinking more clearly, it wasn't very long before Dana's thoughts shifted back to the dream she'd just had.

The memory was one of the better ones that she had of Curtis Bradshaw, and _this_ was a rarity in and of itself since most recollections of her father were usually the complete opposite. That moment between them had happened about a week before her fifth birthday, during a point in the Bradshaw Family History where her parents had actually been somewhat getting along and when their family hadn't been entirely dysfunctional yet. Back then, when she was young and innocent and naïve to the things her father did when he was away, Curtis Bradshaw had still been her hero – he was strict, yes, a disciplinarian through and through, but he'd had a soft spot for her that she'd sometimes taken advantage of during those days. Even now, as the memory replayed in her head again, she could remember how elated she'd felt at the prospect of _finally_ riding on a Harley, how much it had excited her knowing that she and her father would have this little secret between themselves, and how she'd practically floated on a cloud for the rest of that week as she waited for the Big Day to approach…

Dana shook her head and ran a hand through her messy hair – there had been no way of knowing it at the time, but in the end Curtis Bradshaw would not see his promise to his daughter through. Because the day before her birthday he'd ended up going on a day-long drinking binge with his friends at the club and, beyond intoxicated and not thinking very rationally, they'd decided it'd be a good idea to go and 'have a talk' with a rival club that had been stirring up trouble. One massive, drunken, and _bloody_ brawl later, Curtis found himself locked away in a county jail and had ended up spending Dana's fifth birthday behind bars.

Now that certainly hadn't been the only time her father had gone back on his word – he made a habit out of making empty promise after empty promise in the years leading up to her parents' split – but when comparing it to some of the other times he'd disappointed her, _that_ was one of the more painful incidents. And it was only made worse by the fact that her family had all but gone to complete and utter shit after that – now that she reconsidered it, Dana wasn't so convinced that memory of her father could be labeled as 'good' anymore, since thinking of that moment also forced her to remember the onslaught of painful memories that stemmed from the aftermath of Curtis' indiscretion.

When the small, silver cell-phone began to ring, filling the room with its shrill ringtone, Dana turned an impatient look on it. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Joel and that he was probably calling in an attempt to smooth things over – he'd been on the receiving end of a lengthy, colorfully-worded berating the night before – and for a moment or two she debated ignoring him just so that he'd sweat over it a little while longer. But since she knew he'd only keep pestering her if she didn't answer the phone, she finally snatched it up and flipped it open.

"What?" She answered bluntly.

There was a pause, then, "Am I interrupting something, Agent Bradshaw?" Came the measured reply from the other end of the line – and the voice Dana heard did _not _belong to Joel Matheson.

Dana straightened up immediately, mentally cursing at herself. "No, sir." She answered, shutting her eyes and gently whacking herself in the head a few times – _Note to self, check and see who the __**hell **__is calling next time. _"Just waking up, sir."

Peters hesitated again, making her hold her breath for a second. "I just spoke with Agent Matheson." He informed her, not beating around the bush and making her cringe again. "He informed me that you know about Teller and that you quote, 'are extremely pissed'."

"He didn't exaggerate." She admitted honestly. "For future reference, the next time you plan to move me in next door to someone I'm investigating, and who _also_ might be responsible for the disappearance of two FBI agents, a word of warning is _very _much appreciated…sir." Dana told him in a cordial, albeit forced voice.

Peters heaved on his end. "I was wrong not to tell you, Bradshaw, and I'll admit that. But there was no chance in hell you were gonna agree to this if you knew I was planning to move you in next to Teller." Dana wanted to say, _Yeah, no shit, _but refrained from doing so. "Listen, the bottom line is that you still have no idea how you're getting into that clubhouse – all I was trying to accomplish with this move was presenting you with as _many _ways as possible to get you in with SAMCRO, nothing more and nothing less."

Dana considered his words for a moment, positive that he wasn't lying to her, but still shook her head. "I understand, sir, I do. But what _you _need to understand is that _I'm _the one risking my neck out here. Micro-managing and keeping me in the dark are _not_ gonna help me." She told him, using a tone that was firm but trying her hardest not to be insulting. "If I'm gonna do this, I need the freedom to do it _my_ way. You gave me this case for a reason, sir. Now give me the chance to prove that you didn't make a mistake in doing so."

She waited with bated breath for Peters' response. There was another long pause on his end before he finally said, "Alright." Dana breathed a sigh of relief after hearing his agreement. "I'll give you some leeway…_for now_." Peters emphasized. "But if I feel like you're not making enough progress in a timely manner, I'm stepping back in."

"I can agree to that." Dana told him readily. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it." He responded. A muffled, female voice sounded in the background on Peters' end a moment later – she listened as her superior exchanged a few quick words with who she could only assume was his secretary. "Sorry to cut this short, but I've got a meeting to get to, Bradshaw." Peters told her once he'd refocused on their conversation. "I don't suppose you're willing to wear the mic and earpiece while you're at Dupree's today?"

"I'd rather not." Dana said bluntly. "It's a little hard to concentrate when I have Matheson blabbing in my ear all day."

"Alright, then." Peters conceded. "But I want an update as soon as your interview with Trager's cousin is done." He went on to command. "And if you get the job…just know that you've got my support."

This was another comforting thing to hear from her superior. "You've got it, sir." Dana told him, glad that they seemed to have reached an understanding.

"Anything else you need?"

Dana didn't have to think twice about her next request – with thoughts of her father pushed firmly to the back of her mind (where they belonged), she was ready to concentrate on the mission at hand. "I've already got some stuff on him in the SAMCRO file, but I'd like _any_ information available on Jackson Teller." She informed him. "If I'm gonna live next door to him, I wanna know exactly what I'm dealing with."

"Done, I'll get Matheson and Jenkins on it." Peters granted. "Good luck today…_Ms. Prejean._"

* * *

Jackson very quietly opened the door to Abel's bedroom and poked his head inside, listening out for any signs that the infant might have woken from his afternoon nap. When he heard nothing he slowly shut the door again, doing his best not to make too much noise as he did so. He then made a quick stop in his bedroom to snatch up the baby-monitor on the nightstand, slipping it into the back pocket of his baggy jeans before making his way back through the house and stepping out into his garage. Jackson hit the button to open the garage door, wincing a bit when the late-afternoon sunlight washed over him, then started fishing around in his pockets for his cigarettes.

Even though it was nearly four in the afternoon, this was the first time he'd stepped outside of his house that day. After going to Oakland the day before and spending almost the entire day away from Abel, all he'd wanted to do _today _was spend time with his son and take a little break from the club's increasingly-long list of issues; after all the shit that had gone down in the past week or so, Jackson felt the break to be well-earned. So he'd put away all of his pre-pay's, making sure they weren't within sight or even hearing range, and proceeded to spend the day either playing around with his infant son or just generally being lazy.

But eventually Abel had grown tired and Jackson had had to put him down for his afternoon nap. Then, like clockwork, as soon as Abel was asleep and Jackson was left to his own devices, the harrowing darkness had started to creep in on him again. It hadn't been long before the house had started to feel suffocating, like it was closing in on him – he'd needed air, needed to get out of there and escape the ever-present, haunting memories of Tara Knowles. The biker lit up a cigarette, letting the tobacco fill his lungs and relaxing as it helped settle the thoughts racing through his mind. Jackson then went over to the outside refrigerator to grab a beer before picking up a bag of tools and heading for a bike he'd been repairing over the last month or so – if there was anything that was going to get his mind off of _her _right then, busying himself with his project would be it. Something caught his attention once he was in his driveway, however, something that he hadn't really noticed in his exhausted state when he'd returned home the night before.

There was a white Chevy Malibu parked in the driveway of the once vacant home next door – it seemed that Old Betty's house had finally been sold and that Jackson now had a new neighbor.

Jackson only peered at the house in mild interest for a moment or two, briefly wondering who might be living next door now, before turning his back on the house and yanking the protective tarp off of the half-built motorcycle parked next to his Dyna-Glide. He tossed the tarp away carelessly, cracked his beer open, and took a long swig from it – after smacking his lips in approval, he then settled down on the ground next to the bike and, having already forgotten all about his new neighbor, got to work.

Almost an hour passed by without him even realizing it – whenever he was working on the bike and lost in a world of motorcycle parts, he would be so focused and so intent on what he was doing that the real world and everyone in it became a distant thought in the back of his mind; it was why Jackson had taken to working on his project so often these days. He could forget that he'd been tossed away like yesterday's garbage by the woman he loved and didn't have to think about all of the shit that the club was dealing with right then – all he had to worry about were the parts in his hands and motorcycle in front of him. It was his escape whenever Abel couldn't distract him from his inner demons, his salvation…

It was the slam of a door some time later, followed by the _clack clack clack _of high-heels on pavement that finally drew his attention away from the bike. Jackson, now sweaty from the afternoon heat and dirtied up with grease, glanced around to determine where the sound was coming from. The blonde straightened up when he realized it was coming from next door, turning a curious look in the direction of his new neighbor (whom he could only assume was a woman) to get a good look at her.

The first thing he noticed about her was her attire. She was wearing a black, button-up blouse tucked into grey business slacks, with a pair of tall, black heels on her feet. The next thing he noticed, however, was her ass. Scratch that, her very _nice _ass – since the woman hadn't noticed him yet, Jackson took advantage and tilted his head as he let his eyes roam freely over her form. In fact, now that he had gotten a closer look, he found that she had a pretty nice _everything_; she wasn't the skinniest girl he'd ever seen, but he could certainly appreciate the fact that she seemed to have curves in all the right places. Jackson forced his gaze up past her chest so that he could get a look at her face – it was easy to see her soft, pretty, feminine features thanks to the fact that her copper-colored hair was pulled back, and he noticed that (unlike the morally-questionable women he was used to being surrounded by) she wore only a minimal amount of make-up.

But though the redhead was undeniably attractive, it was pretty obvious from the way she carried herself that she was a woman who took herself very seriously; Jackson couldn't help but notice that everything about her, from her perfectly slicked-back ponytail to her fashionable shoes, seemed to scream _I'M A PROFESSIONAL WOMAN_, and he would not be the least bit surprised if he were to learn that she was one of those 'control freak' type people, or something of that sort.

He didn't know if she had felt his staring or if the woman had known he was there all along, but in the next moment she caught him a bit by surprise when she turned her head to look in his direction.

For a moment they stared at one another, neither making a move to acknowledge the other any further, until she finally half-smiled and raised a hand to awkwardly wave at him. He nodded his head to her once in greeting, then watched as she got into her car, backed out of the driveway, and sped off down the street before disappearing entirely. _Weird…_Jackson thought to himself, wondering why a woman like that would choose to move to a place like Charming.

He eventually turned his attention back to the bike, his thoughts still centered around the woman that had moved in next door to him. That was when one of his _other_ neighbors decided to make an unexpected appearance – Bonnie-Jean came rushing out of her house, hurrying down to the end of her driveway and looking in the direction the redheaded stranger had gone with a disappointed look on her face; it only took her another second or two to notice that Jackson was outside as well.

"Hey, Jax?" She called to him, making her way across the street. "Did you just see your neighbor leave by any chance?" Bonnie-Jean then asked. Jackson stood to his full height as she approached, nodding his head in confirmation. "Damn!" The older woman said, snapping her fingers with a frown. "I was hopin' to catch her before she left…"

"Who is she?" Jackson asked curiously. "She from around here?"

"Her name's Dana, Dana Prejean. And she just moved here from L.A., got in on Saturday." Bonnie-Jean answered him. "I spent a bit of time with her yesterday, just to get to know her a little bit better." Then she frowned at him, an empathetic expression taking over her features. "Poor thing just went through a divorce. I think she's just tryin' to get back on her feet, you know…find a fresh start."

_Join the club, lady, _he thought bitterly to himself. Jackson grabbed a towel to wipe his hands clean, his eyebrows furrowing together. "I see…so what'cha think about her?"

Bonnie-Jean pursed her lips then slowly nodded her head, shrugging a shoulder at him at the same time. "She's fine, though a bit on the shyside...harmless enough." She told him approvingly. "I'm sure working at the bar and getting to know the town a little better will help her come outta her shell, though."

Jackson's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The bar?" He asked in puzzlement. "_Your _bar?"

"Yeah." Bonnie-Jean confirmed. "That's where Dana's headed now – has a job interview with Harry at five o'clock. She's tryin' to get the open bartender position."

Jackson thought back to his first impression of the woman named Dana Prejean and snorted in disbelief, shaking his head skeptically at Bonnie-Jean. "I dunno, Bonnie…she seemed a little uptight to me. You sure she's cut out for the Goat?"

Bonnie-Jean almost immediately frowned at him in disapproval. "She's not _uptight. _She's just…_reserved._" She corrected in the woman's defense – the two descriptions pretty much meant the exact same thing to Jackson, but he didn't bother arguing with Bonnie-Jean about it. "I think she'll do just fine." Bonnie-Jean continued with a firm nod of her head. "And I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Jackson Teller, because something tells me there's more to that girl then meets the eye."

"Guess we'll just have to see about that." He said in an unconvinced tone – the sound of a crying baby then began to sound from Jackson's back pocket, drawing the attention of the two adults. "Duty calls." Jackson said with a sigh before turning to head back into the house. "I'll catch ya later, Bonnie." He called over his shoulder.

"Jax?" He paused and turned around to face her again with an expectant look, waiting to hear what she had to say. "I was thinking…you and Dana should get to know each other, maybe try talking to one another." The blonde suggested out of the blue – Jackson quirked an eyebrow at her, unsure if he was hearing her correctly. "You know, because you're both kinda goin' through the same thing." Bonnie-Jean hurried to say, allowing him to see that she was clearly a little intimidated by him and that she was trying not to say anything that might cause offense. "It might not be a bad idea to make friends with her."

"Make friends?" He asked, almost amused with the idea – he didn't exactly have a habit of befriending random females; there were very few women in the world outside of family that Jackson would actually consider to be his friend.

"Well, I mean…don't get _too _friendly." Bonnie-Jean countered, pinning him with a pointed look. "She's a nice girl and seems promising – I don't want youcorrupting her."

"I thought you knew me better then _that, _Bonnie." He shot at her with a smirk on his face. "Nice girls aren't my type, remember?" And that was the truth – he'd learned by now that nice girls were _way _too damn complicated for him. His life was a hell of a lot easier whenever he just stuck to the sweetbutts and the crow-eaters.

"Yeah, we'll see…" Bonnie-Jean said, clearly not convinced that Jackson would remain on his best behavior around the redheaded newcomer. "Just think about it, that's all I'm saying." She finally finished.

"Okay." He told Bonnie-Jean, even though he had absolutely _no _intentions of having a therapy session with the random woman that had just moved in next door to him. "Gotta go. See ya." He then said, before turning his back on her again and heading back into his house.

* * *

Dana was _still _thinking about Teller when she pulled into an empty parking spot outside of Billy Goat Gruff's about twenty minutes later. But the agent _wasn't_ thinking about the pages of information that Joel and Jenkins had sent her or how nervous she had been to exit her house knowing Jackson Teller was only a handful of feet away, nor was she worrying whether she had successfully appeared unaffected by his presence while walking to her car – the only thing Dana seemed to be able to think about right then (and against her will) was the image of Jackson Teller, shirtless and sweaty and covered in motorcycle grease, but _still_ somehow managing to look wildly attractive in the process.

Now when Dana had told Carl Peters that she took her job seriously, she had meant it – work had been her top priority for nearly eight years now and that probably wouldn't be changing anytime soon. But though she was devoted to her work, Dana was _still _a red-blooded female…a red-blooded female that appreciated a good-looking man when she saw one, to be more specific. Something about the combination of Teller's long hair, thick beard, and the sight of his well-defined torso and back had procured an unwanted reaction within that she was now dutifully trying to fend off.

"You're here to arrest him, Bradshaw." Dana reminded herself out-loud, banging her head back against her headrest. "_Not _here to lust over him."

She told herself this a few more times before heaving and shaking her head, attempting to physically shake the thoughts of Teller from her mind. Once Dana was certain she had banished any lingering images of a half-naked Teller, the redhead reached for the folder next to her, got out of her Malibu, then headed for the front door of Billy Goat Gruff.

There were only a few people loitering around once she'd stepped inside – the girl cleaning glasses behind the bar was the one to greet her.

"You must be Dana." She stated, taking a moment to eye her up and down. The girl looked to be around twenty-five, had long, dark hair, and was dressed in a way that didn't leave very much to the imagination – she either didn't notice or didn't care that the customer sitting on the other side of the counter was openly staring at her breasts, which were barely concealed by her low-cut tank-top.

"Yep, that's me." Dana confirmed. "Good guess."

The girl smirked. "_Not _a guess." She countered with a shake of her head. "Dupree told me to keep an eye out for a redheaded school teacher, and so far…" The brunette paused and glanced around the bar with a bit of exaggeration, "…you're the only one here fitting that description, hon."

"I see." Dana told her, wondering if the time had come for a wardrobe change – if she was going to play the role of Dana Prejean, bartender, then she had to stop dressing like Dana Bradshaw, federal agent.

"I'm Rachel, by the way." The girl introduced herself.

"Dana." She officially introduced in response, even though Rachel already knew her name. "And I was actually going for the _librarian _look today." She added wittily, half-smiling at the girl who might soon be her co-worker.

Rachel's smirk widened in amusement, but before she could say anything in response the lone customer at the counter spoke up. "Who cares? If any'a my teachers 'r librarians had looked like _you_…" He started in a bit of a slur. "…well sweetheart, I'd'a never left school."

Dana and Rachel shared a humored look. "Thanks." Dana told the man a bit unsurely, not overly surprised when he blatantly checked her out.

Before anything else could be said by anyone, everyone's attention was caught by the entrance of Harry Dupree. The man had just stepped out of what appeared to be his office and had spotted Dana almost instantly. "Ah, Ms. Prejean – right on time." He said in greeting. "I'm ready if you'd like to come on back." He added, motioning her over.

Dana nodded and then hurried to join Dupree. He showed her inside his office, which was small and had very few personal effects decorating it, before shutting the door behind them. She lingered by the desk for a moment, toying with the folder in her hands and waiting to be invited before occupying the chair on her right – Dupree walked around his desk, eyeing her attire with an unreadable expression, then motioned towards the chair next to her.

"Please, sit." He told her while taking his own seat. Once she had done so, he picked up a pen and scribbled her name down on a yellow notepad. "So…" He stated, relaxing into his seat as he turned his attention back to her. "How's Charming treating you?"

"Not too bad." Dana answered, feeling nervous about this meeting for the first time – the agent had been so distracted with the Teller situation that day that it was only _now_ that she was remembering how crucial this job interview was. "It's a bit of a change from the city, but I think I can get used to it."

Dupree nodded before cocking his head to the side in curiosity. "Where did you move here from?"

Dana quickly opened up the folder and pulled out the résumé that Joel had prepared for her, handing it over to Dupree – his eyebrows raised a tick as he reached over to slowly take it, looking a bit caught off guard with how prepared she was. "L.A., lived there for about three-and-a-half years. I was actually born in Califoria but ended up moving to Texas when I was a kid." She told him. "I came back with my ex-husband." She continued. "We both worked for the same company in Houston, but he ended up getting transferred to California. Even though we weren't married at the time I decided to go with him." Only the first part of her explanation was true – she'd split from her husband _long _before getting accepted into the bureau and moving to Los Angeles. "Guess we all make bonehead decisions every now and again, right?"

"_Too _right." Dupree agreed with a snort, setting the résumé down on his desk. "So…let's get down to it." He said, tapping his pen as he regarded her. "Do you have any previous bartending experience, Ms. Prejean?"

"I do." Dana confirmed with a nod, having never felt more grateful for her brief stint as a bartender the she did right then. "I worked at a place called Big Ben's for almost four years – it's how I put myself through college." She continued, exaggerating the length of time _actually_ spent as a bartender by a few years.

"Well, that's a good start." He told her with an approving nod. "And exactly how long has it been since you worked behind a bar?"

"A while." Dana admitted. "But I figure it'll be just like riding a bike…and I not, I'm a fast learner."

Dupree nodded and leaned over to peer at her résumé again, marking a few things with his pen as his eyes skimmed over the paper. "Dana M. Prejean, single, twenty-nine years old…" He read aloud, speaking more to himself then to her; he clicked his tongue unsurely after he read her age. "You're a littlebit _older_ then the girls we normally hire…" This hadn't been said as an insult, but Dana still felt slightly offended – her impending thirtieth birthday was dreadful enough already _without_ Harry Dupree making her feel like an old maid. "But…" Dupree continued, turning his eyes back to her. "You don't _look _a day over twenty-five, so that's lucky."

Dana only nodded in response, looking on as Dupree lowered his gaze to the document in front of him again and continued reading the made-up résumé. He paused a little ways down, his eyebrows coming together, before shifting his eyes back up to hers in bewilderment. "What exactly is 'Warner Industries'?" He asked inquiringly.

She quickly recalled the notes that Joel had left for her before answering. "It's just a big name supply vendor for construction companies, specializing in industrial construction, rigging, heavy hauling…things like that." Dana told Dupree, relaying Joel's summarization almost word for word. "I worked in sales – it was my job to reel in the clients." She'd added that last tid-bit in hope that it would make her look better.

"Construction, huh? Kind of an odd place for a woman, don't ya think?" Dupree asked with raised eyebrows.

"It was a male-dominated field, yes." Dana conceded with a smile. "But it was the only job offer I got right out of college, so I took it."

Dupree looked at her for a very long, very silent moment before heaving and shaking his head. "Listen, Dana – can I call you Dana?" When she nodded, he continued. "I know that you just moved here and know that you need a job…" He stated slowly, making her stomach turn uneasily – the tone of his voice didn't sound very promising. "But I'm a little confused about why you chose _this _place."

"What do you mean?" Dana asked, keeping her voice steady and skillfully concealing her mounting anxiety.

"Well, first off, you're _way _overqualified – a bachelor's degree from the University of Houston and multiple years spent working for a big name company?" He shot at her, motioning to her résumé. "You _don't _belong behind a bar." Dana felt her heart drop into her stomach; this interview was _not_ going the way she'd hoped it would. "Secondly, I can tell that you're a smart woman – why aren't you putting yourself to better use? The idea is usually to climb _up _the corporate ladder, not down."

_Think Dana, __**think!**_ After a moment of quick thinking on her part, a response finally came to her.

"I had a little reality check after my ex left me, Dupree." She lied, hoping what she was about to say would be enough to convince him to hire her. "I realized that I had spent _years_ of my life wasting away at a desk and working a _lame ass _nine-to-five job. I did the same thing every day, slaved away on holidays for a boss that didn't give two shits about me, and had absolutely _nothing _to show for all the work I'd put in – the life I led back in L.A. was taking me absolutely _nowhere._" Dana could tell she'd caught Dupree's interest, but tried not to get too excited about it yet. "This move to Charming is about starting over, about stepping out of my comfort zone and beginning a new chapter. I _want _to work here, and I promise that if you hire me you will _not _regret it."

_Well…you might regret it __**eventually**_, she added in her head.

For a long moment Dana and Dupree stared at each other in silence, his eyes calculating and scrutinizing while hers remained fiercely determined – after a good ten seconds Dupree finally heave and shook his head.

"Well how in the hell am I supposed to say no to _that_?" He asked in resignation, quirking an eyebrow at her and actually looking a bit impressed – Dana immediately grinned, inwardly celebrating because she knew she had won him over. "You're a tricky one, aren't you, Prejean?" He accused, wagging a finger at her. "Something tells me you're not nearly as dull as you want everyone to _think _you are."

Dana had to laugh at the backwards compliment, because Dupree had no idea how spot on he was. "It's all about the mystery." She told him with a smirk.

Dupree watched her for one more minute before clapping his hands and getting to his feet. "Well, c'mon then – time for you to show me what you're made of." He said. "Make me a drink or two."

* * *

Ten minutes later found Dana, Rachel, and the now slightly-more-intoxicated customer (that had spoken to Dana pre-interview) watching with rapt attention as Dupree finished his first drink, set the empty glass down, then grabbed his second – the three were looking on with such intensity that one might think they were staring at a bomb they were trying to diffuse rather then a man in the process of judging drinks. Still, they watched in silence, shooting glances at each other periodically as they waited to hear Dupree's verdict.

He took a few more sips, placed his drink calmly on the bar, then directed his attention on Dana – the agent could not help but think that this moment was _way _more intense then it needed to be but met his gaze steadily, pressing her lips together nervously. The dark-haired man narrowed his eyes at her, watching her in silence for a long moment, before he finally spoke up.

"Pay will be seven-twenty-five an hour, minimum wage in the great state of California, but most of your money will be earned in tips." He began to explain – Dana smiled in relief and glanced over at Rachel, who nodded to her in silent congratulations before wandering off to help a customer that had just walked in. "We're open seven days a week – yes, even Sunday – and business hours are from four in the afternoon to two in the morning. I'll round up the paperwork you need to fill out and have it to you in a few hours. In the mean time I'm sure Rachel would be happy to start showing you the ropes."

Dana's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, you want me to start _now_?"

Dupree quirked an eyebrow at her. "Got somethin' better to do?"

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to think of the correct answer, before shaking her head. "No."

Her new boss looked more pleased with this response and knocked a knuckle twice on the bar-top before rising from his seat. He started to walk away but paused for a moment to turn back towards her. "One more thing…" His eyes did a sweep over her body, making her feel a bit self-conscious. "I know you're workin' the whole 'hot teacher' angle, but try dressing a little less…_mom-ish_ from here on out, capeesh?"

Dana snapped her fingers and pointed at him, signaling to him that the message had been received. "Got it, boss."

"Don't worry, Dupe." Rachel suddenly said, having come back to rejoin the conversation now that their new customer had been helped. "I'll get this one in shape in no time." She reassured Dupree.

"Atta girl." He said in approval. Then he flashed a smirk in Dana's direction. "Welcome to the funhouse, Prejean."

Once he was headed back towards his office, Dana sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking around for a moment and taking in the sight of her new place of employment. Though there was no way of knowing what might happen from this point on, Dana still felt a great sense of accomplishment – if nothing else, she was at least one step closer to SAMCRO. Now she just had to hope that things continued to work in her favor and that she could get a plan underway sooner rather then later. Then, hopefully, she'd be on the path to recovering the missing agents before it was too late.

* * *

**A peek into Dana's past, a brief interaction between Jax and Dana, and a new job – pretty eventful! What did you guys think?**


	5. The Sons of Anarchy

**Sorry the wait was a little bit longer this time. Like our main character, I just moved into a new house and then there was a health scare in the family. So things have been a little chaotic! And Jesus this chapter gave me a **_**hell**_** of a time, too – I seriously think I rewrote it about fifteen times…needless to say, I've been beyond frustrated for the past week trying to get this chapter to work. **

**Anywho, I'll try to get back on my schedule of updating about once a week ASAP.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

* * *

_**The Sons of Anarchy**_

"Hey, red! Can I get another vodka on the rocks?!"

Dana turned her attention away from the woman she was already serving and nodded at Phil, the same customer that had been present the day of her hiring and someone she'd quickly come to learn was a regular at Billy Goat Gruff. "You got it, Phil!" Dana called back, having to raise her voice in order to be heard over the noisy crowd. The redhead then handed the woman her cocktail, took her payment, and moved on to make Phil's drink.

It was Friday night and the bar was absolutely bustling with activity – she, Rachel, and Ross, the lone male bartender employed under Harry Dupree, had been running around like chickens with their heads cut off for over an hour now. It seemed as though half of the _town_ had decided to pour in to their favorite watering hole so they could greet the weekend with a bang. Tonight was _also_ the busiest shift that Dana had worked since starting at Billy Goat Gruff, and, despite having diligently trained with Rachel every single day that week, she had to admit that it was a bit intimidating to be faced with such a large, demanding crowd when she was still so rusty; after years of taking down drug lords and hauling in criminals, being behind a bar again had left her feeling a little out of her element.

"Here ya go." Dana said a bit breathlessly, plopping Phil's drink in front of him and taking a moment to suck in a long breath – maybe she should have thought a little harder about this bartending gig; Dana had forgotten how physically demanding it could be from time to time.

"You're doin' a good job, teacher lady." Phil told her encouragingly. He then snatched his drink up and took a sip, giving her a thumbs-up. "You get a gold star for today."

With that being said he winked at her exaggeratedly and turned around to meander his way back to his table of friends. Dana shook her head to herself, unable to help feeling amused with the drunkard's antics after having been subjected to this sort of good-natured teasing all week long – she could feel a fondness growing within for the kooky, fifty-something Phil and, so far, her attempts to ward off such feelings had been unsuccessful. She watched him go for one more second, wondering at how wonderfully weird he was, until another customer stepped up to take Phil's vacated place at the bar. Dana smiled and leaned over the countertop, knowing her short reprieve had come to an end.

"What can I get you?" The undercover agent asked before getting back to work as the customer ordered three Long Island Ice Teas.

Thus far, everything had more or less been going according to plan – Dana finally felt like she had a routine of sorts in her new home, she'd been slowly making friends with Bonnie-Jean and her new coworkers, and even though the transition from the life of a federal agent to a bartender hadn't been _completely_ seamless, she'd managed to begin integrating herself into the world of "The Goat" (as the locals had affectionately dubbed it). And since she finally had Peters' full support and the freedom to operate how _she _wanted to (for the time being, anyway), Dana was not only feeling much more in control of, but also more at ease with the precarious investigation she'd thrown herself into. In summary, things had gotten off to a much-smoother-than-expected start.

But even though the undercover agent had been putting in a solid performance over the course of her first week in Charming, there was still oneaspect of this challenging mission that had yet to show even a _hint _of progress. And it was the most crucialpart of all – making friends with SAMCRO.

As previously mentioned, Dana had known from the very beginning that getting in with the Sons of Anarchy wasn't going to be a walk in the park – men like the ones that made up the SAMCRO organization usually only found females to be good for a few things, and, unfortunately for her, friendship usually was _not_ one of them. Still, given the fact that she lived next door to the vice president of the club and now worked for the man related to Tig Trager, she had thought (_expected_) that there would have been _some _kind of improvement by now. But a week's worth of reconnaissance had taught the agent that the Sons were a very preoccupied bunch, and that Jackson Teller was not actually home very often, despite being a single father to an infant child; Dana was starting to think that she'd end up having more interaction with the child's nanny, a friendly black woman named Neeta, then she would with Teller himself.

Admittedly, the agent would have to confess that she was a bit disgruntled with how slowly everything with SAMCRO was coming along.

Under other circumstances, Dana might not have been so quick to frustration after only a week's worth of investigating, but she was no closer to infiltrating the motorcycle club now then she had been upon arriving. And, unfortunately, time _wasn't_ her ally in this case – she knew her superior was going to take control of the operation if she didn't produce anything significant, and _fast._ By this point she knew that watching the club on her surveillance screens or hoping they might turn up around town wasn't going to cut it anymore. If she didn't want to end up dancing at a titty-bar, as Peters would surely have her do if he was calling the shots again, then Dana was going to have to be more proactive. If nothing with SAMCRO had changed by the next week then she was just going to have to _make _something happen, even if that required destroying her own car _herself _so it'd give her an excuse to visit Teller-Morrow Automotive.

Another busy forty-five minutes flew by as the crowd at The Goat continued to grow. The bar was now ungodly hot thanks to the surplus of body-heat and carbon dioxide in the air, and quite suddenly Dana would have loved nothing more then to step out back and have a cigarette, anything just to get a little peace and quite or some fresh air. She knew better then to ask for a break during the bar's busiest hours, though, and sucked it up as she helped another customer.

"Pass me that bottle of crown, Prejean." Rachel instructed – she easily caught the bottle once Dana had fastened the top and tossed it over. "You alright? You're lookin' a little flushed." She then commented, eyeing her with a quirked eyebrow.

Dana nodded and fanned herself for a moment before pushing the long sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. "I'm fine, it's just hotter than the seventh layer of _hell _right now." She told her, trying her best to keep a whine from entering her voice.

Rachel immediately looked amused. "You're working at the busiest bar in town on a Friday night – you're _in _the seventh layer of hell, babe."

"Well, in that case, maybe if I could put my hair up – " Dana started to suggest, even though she knew it was futile.

The brunette immediately held a hand up to silence her. "Blah, blah, blah, I can't hear you." She interrupted loudly, making Dana shoot her an unimpressed look. "You can look at me any way you want, but _you're _the one that agreed to follow my guidance – _appearance _included." She went on to remind Dana matter-of-factly, looking at her with a regretful expression that was in _no _way sincere. "You're lucky you even got away with…" Rachel trailed off for a moment and motioned to Dana's outfit. "…_that._"

Dana held her arms out questioningly and looked down at the outfit she'd put together for work, which was a form-fitting Pearl-Snap shirt, her favorite pair of jeans, and a pair of flats. "What?" She asked incredulously. Rachel just snorted in response. "Oh come on, this is _way _better then what I wore for the interview. Even Dupree said so." Dana defended at once.

"It's better, I'll give you that much – congratulations, you've gone from school teacher to camp counselor." Rachel conceded, making Dana roll her eyes dramatically – there'd be no winning with Rachel until the brunette had turned Dana into a replica of herself. And _that _was something she was in _no _rush to do. "One of these days I'm just gonna show up at your house and tear your closet apart, just you wait and see." The brunette continued, wagging a warning finger at Dana. "Then you'll have no choice but to let me redo your wardrobe."

Dana shot her a look, knowing the Rachel was probably just joking but still detecting a hint of seriousness underlining her words. "I'd really rather you didn't." She told her, being half-sarcastic but also half-serious, just so the woman wouldn't get any ideas.

Rachel started to say something in response, but her words fell short as their other co-worker purposefully planted himself between them. "Less talking, more serving." Ross pointedly reminded them as he grabbed a few straws. He then shot both of the females a stern look before continuing on.

The brunette stuck her tongue out at his retreating back in a childish manner, leaving Dana to suppress an amused smirk. "This conversation isn't over." Rachel told Dana, pointing her finger in the older woman's face for the second time before turning to help a waiting customer. "What'cha want, babe?"

The agent sighed and shook her head, running her fingers through her hair for a moment to get all of the strands back into their proper place – _Note to self, don't let Rachel McGee anywhere near the house. _Dana then moved to help a group of guys that had just approached the bar. "What can I do you for, gentlemen?" She asked, falling back into character and offering up a wide smile.

Dana almost instantly regretted her choice of wording when the question earned her four lecherous grins from the younger guys. "Well, now _that _is a good question…" The one closest to her said suggestively, wagging his eyebrows before blatantly shifting his gaze downward. "…Dana." He added with a smirk, making it seem as though he'd only been reading her nametag and _not_ trying to get an eyeful of her chest. "Why don't _you _tell _me_?"

While the guys snickered to themselves and high-fived each other, Dana had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the lame flirting attempt. _Typical twenty-something guys, _she thought dryly on the inside – outwardly she showed no sign of her annoyance and kept her smile perfectly intact, knowing that she needed to play her role and play it _well. _"Maybe I'll be more inclined to tell you after you boys take a few rounds of shots – you pay for one round, the other's on the house." She suggested before raising her eyebrows at them challengingly. "You game?"

The four friends looked to one another and briefly discussed this before nodding their heads at the same time. "Alright." The spokesman of the group agreed as they all turned their attention back to her. "But _you _have to take 'em with us." He challenged right back to the encouragement of his friends. "Think you can handle it, city-slicker?"

Dana extended a hand in his direction and he quickly grabbed hold of it. "You're on, frat-boy." She said, shaking on the deal. "Now, what'll it be?"

"Patrón!" One of them called out at once.

Dana immediately shook her head, waving her hands in front of her. "No, no, no – no way. Tequila makes me too, uh..." She struggled to think of the appropriate descriptive for a moment. "_Aggressive_, I guess should say." She finally finished, cringing as she recalled past nights of embarrassing, tequila-induced debauchery.

"I wouldn't mind bein' a witness to that." A new voice piped up interestedly, catching the group's attention. Dana knew without looking that Dupree had just appeared and she was not surprised when he came to stand next to her, the man clearly in the midst of taking a break from schmoozing with customers so he could come and see how things were going behind the bar. He patted Dana on the shoulder, raising his eyebrows. "Hangin' in there, Prejean?"

"Doin' good, Dupree." She reassured him with a matter-of-fact nod.

Dupree nodded then turned a smirk on the group of guys. "Andrew, boys." He greeted, inclining his head. "I trust you're not givin' my newbie too much trouble?" Andrew and the boys immediately began reassuring him that they weren't, but Dupree didn't look like he was very convinced by their argument. "Mhmm…" He responded skeptically, quirking an eyebrow at them. "Well, I think I'm gonna go ahead and get in on this action while I'm here." He announced, already pulling out the numerous shot glasses they were about to need. This made the four guys cheer their approval. "But I say we let the lady pick the poison – what'll it be, Dana?"

Dana thought on it for a moment before smiling and turning around to search for her drink of choice. Once she located the bottle of Jack Daniels, she snatched it up and then presented the bottle of whiskey to the men as though it were a trophy – the boys grumbled in response, looking uncertain, while Dupree let out a low whistle. "_Real_ men drink whiskey." She proclaimed before beginning to fill up the glasses.

"Sounds like a challenge to me…" Dupree jibed a bit tauntingly as he began distributing the shots to the younger men. As soon as everyone had a shotglass full of whiskey in either hand, the bar owner raised one of his into the air. "To the lady." He stated, inclining his head towards Dana. "To Dana!" The group of guys shouted before starting to clink their glasses together and take their shots – she tried not to feel _too _awkward when numerous pairs of curious eyes turned in their direction.

"To a good job." Dana offered up, smirking at her boss as she tapped his shotglass with one of her own.

"Kiss-ass." He accused with a scoff before downing his whiskey.

Dana laughed before knocking back both of her shots, wincing only a little as the strong alcohol worked its way down to her belly. While the group of guys pulled faces – some even shuddered at the taste of the potent drink – Dupree only shook himself for a moment and smacked a hand on the countertop, letting out a loud "Woo!" before turning impressed eyes on Dana when he saw how easily she'd been able to handle the liquor. "You boys need some beers to wash that down?" She asked the group of guys knowingly – all four nodded their heads and hastily ordered Miller Lights.

While the redhead started popping the tops off of four beer bottles, Dupree slapped her on the back with a wide smirk. He resembled Tig Trager so much in that moment that it was uncanny. "Ya know, you're not as hopeless as I thought you'd be." He said, making Dana's eyebrows rise amusedly at the backwards compliment.

"Thanks, Dupree." She told him in response, handing the guys their new drinks. "Thirty for the whiskey, six for the beer, gentlemen."

The guys had just started pulling out their wallets to pay for the drinks when Dupree suddenly spoke up again. "Uh oh." Dana immediately looked up at him with raised eyebrows but his eyes were not on her – they were looking clear over her head and trained on something behind her. "Better call the cops, Prejean." He instructed, his eyes dropping down to hers.

Her eyebrows immediately came together in half-confusion, half-concern. "Why?" She asked in mild alarm, the agent in her coming to life whether she wanted it to or not.

His eyes shifted back to whatever had caught his attention. "Because…" He paused for a beat before all of the seriousness suddenly left his expression, a wide grin spreading across his face instead. "_Here comes trouble!_"

Before an utterly bemused Dana could ask her boss just what the _hell _he was going on about (was he on drugs or something?), Dupree went pushing past Dana with a laugh; she quickly turned her head when a loud voice sounded behind her, wanting to see what, or _who,_ was causing all the commotion…but then her eyes immediately went wide and her heart thumped hard against her ribs as she realized her boss was going to greet a trio of men that had just pushed their way through the crowd and stepped up to the bar. Scratch that, a trio of _leather-clad _men.

"Holy shit…" Dana couldn't help but whisper to herself.

Finally, after having worked at The Goat for five days straight without even a single visit from SAMCRO, three of the men she was investigating – Alexander "Tig" Trager, Filip "Chibs" Telford, and Kip "Half-Sack" Epps – were now standing only a handful of feet away from her.

The agent, now unable to tear her eyes away from the three Sons, watched as Dupree leaned over the bar to share a manly hug with his cousin Tig. The two patted each other on the back before pulling away from each other, smiling widely the whole time. "Sorry I haven't dropped by, man." She heard Trager apologize. "Shit's been crazy at the club. But I see business is boomin' as usual – this place is _packed._" Trager glanced around for a moment and Dana felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end when his eyes lingered on her for a moment.

"It _is _Friday." Dupree responded before moving to greet the other bikers. "Chibs, Sack, good to see ya." He said with a large smile, shaking hands with the Scotsman first.

"You too, Duper." Sounded the thickly-accented voice of the man called Chibs. He patted Dupree on the shoulder before moving aside so the younger man dubbed Half-Sack could do the same.

Dana could tell in a second that her instincts concerning Harry Dupree's relationship with SAMCRO were spot on – as she watched the foursome interact, it was easy to see that there was nothing but a companionable, trusting atmosphere surrounding them. Harry Dupree might not be a patched member of the Sons of Anarchy, but there was no denying that he was very much in their good graces. Now she just had to figure out _how _involved he was with the club's dealings and if there was any way to use his connection to her advantage.

"So…" She heard Trager say as his eyes slid back over to her – Dana shifted her attention elsewhere and hastily went to help a customer, trying to make it seem as though she were busy and _not _eavesdropping on their conversation. "Who's the girl?"

She saw Dupree look in her direction from the corner of her eye. "Ah, new girl in town. Just hired her on Monday." He explained. "Hey, Prejean!" Dupree then called in an attempt to grab her attention.

_Go time, Bradshaw. Keep your shit together! _Dana turned to face Dupree and the Sons with as innocent of an expression as she could muster, raising her eyebrows in question – thank god she had two shots of Jack Daniels working their way into her system right then, otherwise she might not have been able to keep her hands from shaking as she finished up her current transaction. "Yes?"

"C'mere, I got some people I want you to meet." He instructed with a jerk of his head.

Dana nodded, snatched up a rag to wipe her hands on, then, after sucking in a steadying breath, headed towards the group of men.

This was it, the moment that she had been waiting for, the first time she was coming face to face with her enemy. Each step felt like it was taken in slow-motion, as though time itself was slowing down as she neared the three SAMCRO members, and it was with a great deal of effort that Dana was able to ignore how intimidated she felt in that moment – as she came to a halt next to Dupree, a wide smirk immediately spread over Trager's face and his eyes did a sweep of her form, making a zing of alarm shoot down her spine. Quite suddenly she was acutely aware of the fact that these men were dangerous, they were _criminals_. And there was no doubt in her mind that if any of the men standing before her ever found out who she _really_ was, each of them would probably love nothing more then to make sure _she_ disappeared too, just like the other FBI agents.

"Dana, this is my cousin and some of his buddies." Dupree explained, gesturing to the three bikers. "Fellas, meet my new bartender." He finished, patting her on the back again.

The redhead smiled and offered a short wave as she eyed the bikers. "Hi, I'm Dana." _Nice and easy, Bradshaw. _She extended a hand in Trager's direction. "And you are…?"

Trager eyed her hand for a moment then grasped it within his own – Dana couldn't tell if he was checking her out or sizing her up. "Tig." He introduced, the smile on his face looking a bit more charming now. Her eyebrows raised a tick higher when he placed his free hand on top of their clasped ones, prolonging the handshake. "A _pleasure _to meet you." Trager was making her feel uncomfortable but she hid it well. "This here is my good friend Chibs," Chibs inclined his head to her, offering a quick, two-fingered salute, "and this guy over here is – "

Before Tig could introduce the youngest of the group, the Prospect named Half-Sack rushed forward and not-so-discreetly pushed him out of the way. The move forced Tig to relinquish his hold on her hand and he pulled a face at the younger SAMCRO member, who didn't seem to care that he'd annoyed his club brother as he flashed a wide, flirtatious smile at Dana and swept her hand up with his. Now that she was seeing him in person, Dana had to admit that the young biker looked better in real life then he did in the eight-by-ten the FBI had provided her with. "I'm Kip, Kip Epps." He introduced. "But everyone calls me Half-Sack."

She pursed her lips and tilted her head. "Half-Sack?" Dana questioned, and she actually _was _curious to know how the hell he'd earned a nickname like that.

Half-Sack started to explain the origin of the nickname but Chibs beat him to the punch – the Scotsman draped an arm around his club brother's shoulders and punched him playfully in the side, turning a grin on Dana. "Ol' boy lost'a testicle'ta war." He explained, his brogue ringing clear for her to hear. "Hence forth, he now only has _half _a _sack. _Ya see?"

As Half-Sack shrugged at her and nodded his head, confirming to her that the explanation was the truth, Dana pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. "Makes sense." She stated. Then the redhead shot Half-Sack a sympathetic look. "Sorry to hear about your, uh…_sack_."

The biker shook his head and waved her condolences away, opening his mouth to speak again but getting cut off for the second time. "Don't worry, darlin'." Chibs butted in, earning himself an annoyed look from Half-Sack. "Everythin' still works just fine, don't it, brother?"

"'Course it does." Half-Sack replied hastily, looking offended before shooting a dark look in Tig's direction when he snorted with laughter. "It does!" He continued indignantly, pointing a finger at Tig – the older biker pushed his hand away, looking completely unthreatened.

"And I bet now you're more aerodynamic. That's a bonus, right?" Dana offered with a matter-of-fact nod, wanting it to seem as though she were defending him – if she was reading the signs correctly, the youngest biker seemed as though he were trying to flirt with her. And if push came to shove and getting into the SAMCRO clubhouse required getting a little _friendlier _(dear God, she hoped it wouldn't come to that), well…_he _seemed a little less intimidating when compared to the others.

To her approval her comment earned her a laugh from everyone but Tig, who only smirked in response – _This isn't so bad. You've got this_, she mentally pep-talked herself. "From what I hear..." Rachel's voice suddenly sounded – the brunette only stopped for a brief moment, her hands full with drinks. "…it's a _big _bonus." She said on Half-Sack's behalf, shooting him a wink. "Hi, boys. Bye, boys." And then Rachel was off to deliver her drinks, leaving as quickly as she'd arrived.

"Well, there you go." Dana said with a smirk. Then a thoughtful look crossed her face as she considered their conversation for a moment. "So I guess I should be saying congratulations instead then, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah, I think you should." Half-Sack confirmed with a grin before raising his eyebrows at Tig triumphantly. "What do _you _think, Tig?"

"I _think _you're gettin' on my nerves." Tig shot right back – the look on his face was completely serious and made the younger man fall silent. "As much as I'd love to stay and chat with our witty new friend about Half-Sack's aerodynamic junk…" He trained one last pointed look on Half-Sack before turning expectant eyes on his cousin. "We're actually here for a reason." Tig jerked his head in the direction of the pool tables. "Come talk to me while the boys shoot some pool, Harry. We got a little business to discuss."

Dupree's expression turned a bit more serious and his eyebrows came together as he nodded his head once. "Sure thing." He paused and looked down at Dana, who suddenly _very much _wanted to know what sort of 'business' Tig was referring to, but had to carefully conceal it from the group of bikers. "Get these guys whatever they want, on the house." Dupree instructed. "SAMCRO always drinks for free."

Now the undercover agent knew exactly what the acronym 'SAMCRO' meant, but she still looked up at Dupree in slight confusion to make it seem as though she didn't. "Sam Crow?" She asked unsurely, shooting a convincingly-perplexed look in the direction of the bikers – all three seemed amused with her supposed cluelessness.

Rachel reappeared again in the next moment, catching Dana a bit off guard as she dropped an arm around her shoulders. "SAMCRO." She said, echoing Dupree and gesturing towards Tig's leather cut. "Roughly translated it stands for Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, Redwood Original."

Dana nodded her understanding, eyeing the leather cuts before her. "Got it." She said in confirmation.

Rachel cocked her head to the side and eyed the three Sons over. "You boys look thirsty – want me to get the usual order started?"

Tig's annoyance with Half-Sack faded away as an exaggeratedly-sappy expression overtook his face. He placed a hand over his heart for a moment as he gazed at Rachel, looking endeared. "Baby, you are _too _good to me." He told Rachel before extending a hand in her direction – Rachel shot a look at Dana and unwound her arm from around her shoulders before stepping forward to place her hand in Tig's. "Rachel, I've wanted to tell you this for a _long _time." The biker closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath for added affect. "I think I love you." Tig announced, looking completely serious when he opened his blue eyes again.

Rachel flashed a sickeningly sweet smile, leaned forward to kiss Tig's cheek, then not-so-gently patted his cheek with her free hand. "Tig…I think you're full of shit."

Tig was silent for a long moment before shrugging. "…Yeah, you're probably right." He conceded, making her laugh as he kissed the top of her hand before releasing it altogether. "C'mon, boys." He said, motioning for Chibs, Half-Sack and Dupree to follow him as he started off. "And Rach?" Tig called over his shoulder. "We're still waitin' on two more. Just send 'em back when they get here."

"You got it, babe." She agreed, sharing a wink with him before getting started on their drinks.

The agent couldn't help but notice that the crowd parted and cleared a path for the Sons as they went, nor had it escaped her attention that not even _one _customer had attempted to interrupt the conversation that had been taking place or even so much as vocalized their impatience with the distracted bartenders – clearly SAMCRO was a much bigger deal in Charming then Dana had originally accredited. Her eyes turned back to Half-Sack when he lingered behind for a fraction of a second, flashing her one last smile before trailing after his club brothers. The redhead couldn't stop the raising of her eyebrows as she shared a look with Rachel.

"What's that all about?" Dana asked curiously, nodding her head in the direction the men had gone.

Rachel immediately smirked at her. "Well, if I had to guess I'd say Half-Sack's _probably _interested."

Dana smirked and shook her head – that was good news for the investigation if Rachel was right, but that wasn't what the agent had been asking about. "I meant between Dupree and his cousin." She clarified, trying not to sound _too _eager for information.

"Oh." Rachel said, the smirk on her face evaporating in an instant before the faintest hint of a frown turned her lips downward. "Your guess is as good as mine." The brunette answered with a noncommittal shrug – before Dana could ask her another question, her co-worker quickly placed all of the Sons' drinks on a tray and headed off to deliver them, effectively ending the conversation.

Dana stared at her retreating back with raised brows for a moment. She was pretty certain that Rachel knew more then what she was letting on – Rachel could feign cluelessness until she was blue in the face; her body language still spoke _volumes _to the experienced agent – but Dana decided not to press the issue any further for now. She knew she'd have to figure out what sort of arrangement Harry Dupree and SAMCRO had, but, for the time being, the confirmation that there was an arrangement at all was more then enough to appease her. And hopefully Peters, as well.

* * *

The Goat was already packed when Jackson arrived a little after midnight. He strolled into the bar at a leisurely pace, not bothering to put out the cigarette he was smoking, and took a moment to scan the crowd – just as the biker had expected, all the usual suspects had already invaded Billy Goat Gruff to drink their cares away. There was Phil, drinking his vodka and telling wild tales from his youth. He spied Marge, a notorious cougar, chatting animatedly with three younger guys off in the distance; Jackson even spotted Floyd the Barber having a drink in the corner with a group of older gentlemen. It was everyone that he thought he'd see upon venturing into Dupree's bar, but honestly, it was a relief to see the familiar faces after being in that shit-hole The Hairy Dog for the past half-hour.

He looked around again, now noticing his club brothers playing pool in the back, but hesitated for a second when a certain, redheaded woman caught his attention.

Jackson straightened up upon spotting his new neighbor, the woman named Dana Prejean, working behind the bar. He'd known that she worked here, of course, because Bonnie-Jean had told him so. But that had been something he'd discarded as useless information and not given a second thought to until this moment – now that he was seeing her in this setting, however, Jackson couldn't help but watch with a hint of interest as the woman chatted with customers and quickly made drinks, smiling all the while.

"Who's the redhead?"

Jackson glanced up at one of his very best friends, Opie Winston. The burly biker had just caught up to his club brother and had followed his gaze towards the redheaded bartender – he was now eyeing Dana Prejean with a hint of curiosity. "She's my new neighbor." Jackson answered, shifting his gaze back to the woman in question.

Though she appeared to have abandoned her previous, almost-matronly attire consisting of slacks and blouses, her casual ensemble of jeans and a flannel shirt – what were those shirts called again? Pearl-snaps? – still ensured that she was the most modestly dressed woman in the bar. He smirked, finding her sweet-and-innocent, girl-next-door type of appearance to be somewhat amusing when compared to the revealingly dressed Rachel; when Prejean turned to pull a bottle down from the shelf and he saw the way those jeans showcased her ass, though, Jackson suddenly didn't find the situation to be quite as humorous.

Opie's eyebrows raised a tick as Jackson tilted his head appreciatively – apparently his friend had noticed the woman's assets as well. "Good lookin' girl…" Opie stated as though Jackson needed the fact pointed out to him.

Jackson shook his head, straightened up, and quirked an eyebrow at him. "And she'd probably have our unborn children named by the end of the night." He told Opie dryly, firmly pushing away any of the inappropriate thoughts that had invaded his mind in the past few minutes. There was a reason why he stayed away from nice girls like Dana Prejean – he couldn't let his decision be swayed by a nice ass.

Opie chuckled and shook his head. Then, as the crowd parted, something seemed to catch his interest. He smirked widely before nudging Jackson. "Check it out." Jackson craned his neck and looked in the direction that Opie pointed – Dana, he realized, was actually serving Half-Sack, who was leaning against the counter of the bar and watching the woman with rapt attention. Jackson could tell even from where he was standing that Sack was most definitely hitting on her. "Sack doesn't seem to have the same concerns, brother." Opie told him in amusement.

"Hey, Jax! Ope!"

Both Jackson and Opie turned at the sound of their names and focused their attention on the attractive brunette hailing them down. Jackson nodded his head to her then started weaving his way through the crowd, heading for the bar with Opie in tow. "Hey, Rach. How's it goin'?" Jackson asked once they'd reached the long countertop. Rachel McGee was one of the few females in Charming he'd consider to be somewhat of a friend – he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek in greeting.

"Not bad." She answered with a nod. "How's it goin' Ope?"

"I'm alright, Rachel. Thanks for askin'." Opie responded politely.

The brunette smiled and nodded, immediately getting started on a pair of drinks for them without even needing to be asked. "The guys're here already." She told them. "They're waitin' for you back at the pool tables."

"Yeah, I saw 'em." Jackson answered before his eyes turned to gaze down the length of the bar – his neighbor was still talking to Half-Sack, who was being so obvious with his attempt to impress her that it made Jackson snort to himself. "Looks like Sack's got a crush on the new girl." He commented, raising his eyebrows at Rachel.

Rachel scoffed and shook her head. "Yeah, him and half of Charming." She commented dryly. "Dana's definitely workin' that 'new-girl-in-town' angle like a pro, and I'll be damned if that isn't _hard _to compete with. My tits are halfway out, for God's sake," Jackson's eyes were pulled downward as she motioned to her barely-concealed breasts, "and she's _still _rakin' in more tips then me."

Jackson laughed and shook his head as Rachel plopped his and Opie's drinks on the bar in front of them with a disgruntled look. "Don't worry, Rach." Opie told her with a firm nod. "If push comes to shove I bet you could take her in a fight."

"Maybe…maybe not." Rachel responded with a shrug, not looking entirely convinced by Opie's encouragement. "She might _seem_ harmless enough but don't be fooled. That one's got a little bite to her."

Jackson shot a skeptical look in the redhead's direction, taking a long drag from his cigarette before dropping it into an empty beer-bottle nearby – _he _certainly wasn't picking up on any hint of attitude; the girl looked as sweet and innocent as a cupcake. Even her smile was sugary sweet as she listened to whatever Half-Sack was telling her. He watched her for a moment, wondering if Rachel was right and if there _was _more to the woman then met the eye, before deciding there was only one way to find out.

_Time for a little fun…_"C'mon, Ope." He said, suddenly flashing a smirk at his friend. "Let's go talk to Sack."

Opie seemed a bit suspicious but nodded his agreement anyway. Rachel, however, immediately poked the blonde biker in the shoulder with her index finger. "I swear to _God, _Jax – if you act like a dick and send her running for the hills, I'm going to _kill you._" She warned him, looking completely serious. "It's nice to finally have someone with a _brain _workin' behind the bar, so don't screw it up…no offense, Ross." She added as an afterthought, cringing as Ross went past her with an audible grumble.

Jackson held his hand up, trying (and failing) to plaster on an innocent expression. "I'm not gonna do anything." He told Rachel reassuringly before grabbing his drink and pushing away from the bar – she narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms in response, watching him go with untrusting eyes. "Talk to ya later, Rach." He said with a grin, knocking on the countertop with his knuckles as he started in Half-Sack's direction.

* * *

"You don't have to keep comin' up here, ya know." Dana told Half-Sack with an amused smile. "There's cocktail waitresses for that."

"Yeah, well, the service here is better." Was the excuse he gave her. She pursed her lips with a hint of skepticism but nodded her head anyway, turning to pull a bottle down from the shelf in the next instance. "So…" Half-Sack continued – when she turned to face him again, his eyes quickly shifted away from her rear-end and back up to meet her gaze. "Where ya from?" He asked quickly.

"I'm from California originally." Dana answered, acting as though she _hadn't _just caught him checking out her ass. "I was living in L.A. before I moved here."

Half-Sack's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? How was _that_?"

Dana just shrugged and started mixing up his drink in a shaker – she loved working at the bureau but had never been particularly fond of living in Los Angeles. "Could've been better, could've been worse, I suppose." She answered unenthusiastically. "It's certainly refreshing to be someplace smaller." Dana then said, not really stretching the truth that much because it _was _nice to be away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

He nodded and then shot her a flirtatious smile. "Well, Charming's happy to have you." He told her with a nod – Dana plastered on a sweet smile, hoping her look of appreciation was convincing; judging by the widening of the prospect's smile, it was.

"That's nice of you to say, thank you." She said before placing his drink in front of him. "Here ya go."

Half-Sack nodded his head, grabbed his drink, then raised it to her in salute before taking a sip of it. He seemed to be contemplating something as he lowered his drink again, but just as he opened his mouth to speak two new figures appeared on either side of him, making her start in surprise – the two newcomers were two men that Dana recognized in an instant. "What's up, Sack?" Jackson Teller asked loudly, slapping the prospect so roughly on the back that he spilled some of his drink.

"Oh, hey Jax, Ope." Half-Sack said as he quickly recovered from his surprise. "We've been waitin' for you – what took so long?"

"We got a bit held up." Harry "Opie" Winston answered – the burly biker towered over her and looked_ far_ more intimidating in person then he did in his mugshot.

As Dana tore her attention away from Opie Winston and turned her gaze on Teller, a jolt of awareness shot through her nerves as their eyes connected; it was the first time she'd been _this _close to him and she quickly decided that his mugshot absolutely did _not _do his magnificently blue eyes any justice. "I see you took it upon yourself to welcome my new neighbor to town…" He finally commented, still gazing at Dana with that unsettling stare – she didn't know what bothered her more, the fact that she couldn't decipher the look in his attractive, bright blue eyes or that she'd even noticed how appealing those eyes were in the first place.

Dana let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as Teller finally focused his attention on the prospect. Half-Sack almost looked like a deer in headlights when Teller raised his eyebrows at him. "New neighbor?" Half-Sack asked curiously, looking back and forth between Dana and his club brother. "No shit?"

Having decided that the time had come to contribute to this conversation, Dana plastered on a smile and nodded. "It's true." She confirmed. Then Dana turned towards Teller, having to use a good deal of her self-control not to shake as she located her courage and extended a hand in his direction. "We haven't officially met yet, but I'm – "

"Dana Prejean." Teller interrupted, finishing her statement for her. "I already know who you are."

He then took a long gulp of his drink while she continued to stand with her hand extended towards him, watching her with an almost challenging look. When it became obvious he wasn't going to shake her outstretched hand, the redhead closed it into a fist and let it drop awkwardly back to her side – she wasn't entirely sure why he was acting the way he was but she _did _know her temper wouldn't allow her to remain immune to his behavior for very long. "Are you gonna tell me your name or do I have to guess?" Dana asked lightly, her smile remaining firmly intact despite the slight narrowing of her eyes.

"His name is Jackson Teller." Half-Sack piped up, earning himself a look from the blonde biker. "But everyone calls him Jax."

"My _friends _call my Jax." Teller clarified sharply, effectively ensuring that Dana knew she was _not _allowed to refer to him by his nickname.

Dana chanced a bemused look towards Opie Winston, who was silently watching the scene unfold, before raising her eyebrows at Teller. "So what should _I _call you, then?" Dana asked unsurely.

Teller locked those blue eyes on her again, making it hard not to fidget underneath his stare. "I couldn't give two shits, cupcake." He told her with a mocking smile. Dana almost blanched at the nickname he'd bestowed upon her – _Cupcake? __**Cupcake?!**_ – and immediately had to fight the urge to send a few choice words his way – what had she done to provoke this sort of behavior from him? Absolutely _nothing,_ that's what. The redhead was still inwardly seething as Teller turned to Half-Sack with an authoritative look on his face. "Now isn't there something you should be doing besides dickin' around with goody-two-shoes, Prospect?"

Half-Sack immediately looked as surprised as she felt to hear the biting question. "Yeah, yeah, of course." He immediately agreed as he hastily pushed away from the bar. "Sorry, Jax." Half-Sack then grabbed his drink, flashed Dana an apologetic look, then followed Opie towards the pool tables.

Dana watched their retreating forms for a moment before slowly shifting her gaze back to Teller's, trying to keep her expression as impassive as she could so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing that he'd affected her. He'd produced a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his cut and was lighting one up now, smirking at her all the while – her palm suddenly itched with the urge to slap it right off of his face. "I think you need to get back to work now, cupcake." He suggested arrogantly before winking and turning to follow his club brothers.

Dana was left so completely and wholly stunned by what had just transpired between her and Teller that she could only stare at his retreating back in utter disbelief – what in the _hell _had just happened? Part of her knew she should have been prepared for an interaction like this – the description in his file _had_ labeled him as 'abrasive', 'hot-tempered', and 'prone to violence' – but she had assumed that sort of behavior on his part was usually only reserved for police officers or federal agents; she hadn't thought he'd be _that _big of an asshole to the point that he'd treat her, a complete stranger, like yesterday's garbage. The anger began to creep in again and Dana cursed under her breath, shaking her head as she started cleaning glasses with more force then was necessary. _Fucking bikers…they're all the same. _She didn't know who the hell's horse he'd ridden into town on, but if he thought he could get away with treating her like dirt beneath his shoe purely because he believed that leather cut of his gave him some sort of divine right, then Jackson Teller certainly had another thing coming to him.

Dana was finally pulled from her anger-fueled thoughts when Rachel's voice finally registered with her senses. "God-damnit, I told him not to say anything." She said irritably, heaving to herself before shooting her an apologetic look. "You look pissed – what did he say?"

The agent just shook her head, not wanting to fuel the fire by retelling the less-than-courteous interaction. "Is he _always _that friendly?" Dana simply asked her sarcastically. "Or am I just special?"

Rachel pursed her lips, looking uneasy. "He's really not that bad…at least, when you get to know him." She defended the biker. When she saw that Dana wasn't convinced, she let out a heavy sigh. "Look, he's been kind of a..._loose canon_…recently." Rachel explained. "His Ol' Lady ditched him a few months back and he's been a bit of a dick towards everyone ever since, especially women." Rachel frowned for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Well, a bigger dick then usual, anyway." The brunette then clasped her hands together as though praying. "Please don't quit because of him – please, please, please."

Dana shook her head for a moment then ran a hand through her hair. "Relax, I'm not gonna _quit_. I've got a thicker skin then that." She reassured Rachel, making her let out a sound of relief before she stepped forward and enveloped the redhead in a hug – Dana patted her arm awkwardly until the younger woman finally released her.

"Well, thank God. Disaster averted. " Rachel said, wiping invisible sweat away from her forehead. "Don't worry, I'll have a chat with Jax." Rachel told her with a quick nod, looking resolute in her decision. "But until then just…steer clear."

Dana smiled at her ruefully in response. "That'll be easier said then done – he's my next door neighbor."

Rachel's mouth formed the shape of an 'O' as she stared back at Dana. "Oh..." The brunette said in stunned surprise. "Well…shit. Sorry about your bad luck, then." She told her with a helpless shrug, offering up one last sympathetic look before turning to help a waiting customer.

Now that Rachel was distracted, Dana's attention shifted back over to the bikers loitering around by the pool tables. Chibs and Opie had assumed control of the game while Half-Sack looked on nearby and nursed his drink – their eyes met for a moment and he shrugged at her, looking apologetic yet again for the way his club brother had spoken to her; Dana just shook her head in response, silently dismissing the unnecessary apology. It was then that she noticed that Dupree, Tig, and Teller had begun weaving their way towards Dupree's office – she had to suppress the urge to scoff as Teller checked out any and every woman in his path, his head looking as though it were on a swivel as it turned to and fro.

There were a lot of unanswered questioned when it came to this case – were the missing agents still alive? Was SAMCRO involved? Was the proof she was hoping for lurking in their clubhouse? These were all things that the agent didn't know. But in that moment, as she watched Teller disappear into Dupree's office, she found herself sincerely hoping that the Sons of Anarchy _were _the bastards responsible for what had been happening in Charming.

Because if they were, then she was _greatly _going to enjoy the day that she hauled Jackson Teller off to prison and threw his ass behind bars.

* * *

**Oh my god. It's such a relief that I finally finished this chapter. If it totally blew, I apologize. **

**P.S. These super long chapters – like it or hate it?**


	6. Rattle the Cages

**Glad everyone is enjoying so far! To those of you who review/favorite/alert this story, THANK YOU! To my silent readers, don't be shy! I thrive off of feedback!**

**P.S. As you might have guessed by now, I'm **_**not **_**an FBI agent. And I'm relying solely on my past obsessions with **_**24**_**-esque shows for all this FBIness. In summary, I'm doing the best I can…just bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

_**Rattle the Cages**_

Even though Dana was dog tired by the time she returned home on Friday night, sleep did not come to her very easily – her mind was _far _too preoccupied, too jumbled with thoughts and emotions for there to be any hope for sleep once she was finally lying in her bed.

First and foremost, Dana felt frustrated because she knew that she'd missed a golden opportunity for information while Tig, Teller, and Dupree were meeting in his office, and with that also came a tinge of guilt; every missed opportunity took them a step further away from finding the missing FBI agents. And since that could mean life or death for them, that fact did _not _sit well with her in the slightest.

But as the hours ticked by, and she continued to replay her encounters with the different SAMCRO bikers through her mind over and over again, it was a feeling of anger that eventually began to make itself more prominent – anger for the way that Teller had treated her, anger because two agents were missing, maybe even _dead_, while the Sons of Anarchy continued to waltz about town as though they didn't have a care in the world, anger over the way these criminals repeatedly made a mockery of herself and her investigation without so much as lifting a finger. Hell, they were making her look like an incompetent fool and they didn't even knowthey were _doing_ it!

Eventually all of this tossing and turning led to a decision on Dana's part – things were going to change, it was as simple as that. She'd made contact with SAMCRO and that was a step in the right direction, but it wasn't enough; they needed to have the ball in _their _court, not the other way around. And it was this new, unwavering determination that had her texting Joel Matheson at exactly seven-twenty-three on Saturday morning. _Emergency meeting in half hour. Tell everyone. _

In spite of only obtaining a few measly hours of sleep the night before, twenty minutes later the wide-awake (and slightly wired) agent found herself driving through a part of Charming, California that actually looked rather questionable when compared to the rest of the town. Dana glanced down at the scrap of paper in her hands, re-read the directions that Jenkins had given to her exactly a week ago, then raised her eyes again to read the surrounding road signs.

"Edgewood Alley, Edgewood Alley…" She mused aloud, swinging her eyes back and forth as she searched for the correct road – since Joel had insisted that they keep face-time to a minimum, just as a precaution, this was the first time she'd actually ventured to their temporary headquarters in Charming. Dana was quickly discovering that it was not very easy to locate, which was good in regards to the security of the investigation but bad for her, since she couldn't have a meeting with her team if she couldn't find them to begin with.

Dana finally located Edgewood Alley about four blocks past a bar called 'Hairy Dog' – honestly, what was it with this town and naming their establishments after animals? – and turned right, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of the old warehouse the directions told her to look for. She paused at the next stop sign and looked around, beginning to feel disgruntled when she didn't spy a warehouse of any kind nearby. Dana was just about to press on the accelerator again when – _KNOCK, KNOCK._

Dana started at the sound of knuckles rapping on her passenger window and nearly reached for the gun that she always kept stowed underneath her seat – the agent relaxed, however, when the man on the other side of the car window pushed the bill of his baseball cap up to reveal his face. Dana shook her head, recognizing the man in an instant, and pressed the button to unlock the doors to her car, half-glaring now that she was recovering from her surprise.

"Jesus, Jenkins." Dana said with a heavy heave as the agent opened the passenger door and got into the car. "You can't sneak up on me like that. I was two seconds away from pulling a gun on you."

"Consider it payback for calling a meeting before it's even _eight o'clock in the morning_." He shot back challengingly. Dana only scoffed at him in response, a move that Jenkins seemingly chose not to comment on. "Take a right here." He instructed, jerking his head to the right.

Dana did as she was told but still glanced over at him with a hint of confusion. "Did the location change?" She asked as they continued along – there wasn't a warehouse in sight as far she could tell, only a few shady looking apartment complexes and old businesses that didn't look like they saw a lot of foot traffic anymore. Now that they were venturing away from the main road, this part of town was beginning to look surprisingly remote.

"No." Jenkins answered with a shake of his head – he plucked up the piece of paper that he'd written the directions on and held it up for her to see. "I just bullshitted these directions in case this wound up in the wrong hands." He explained before folding it up and stuffing it into his pocket.

Dana rolled her eyes. "Your confidence in me is _staggering, _Jenkins." She told him, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Take a left." Jenkins instructed, ignoring her remark. After a moment, though, he raised a curious eyebrow at her. "So what's this meeting all about, Bradshaw?" He asked interestedly.

"We'll talk about it once we reach headquarters." Dana told him dismissively, keeping her eyes trained on the road as she turned left down a narrow alleyway – out of habit the agent checked her review mirror, just to ensure that no one had taken any special interest in the Chevy Malibu weaving its way towards the outskirts of town. She breathed easier when she saw that there wasn't another car in sight.

Two left turns later they reached an innocent-looking, two-story brick building tucked safely away from the view of the general public. It might have been a functioning business at one point or another, but judging by the state of the building and the overgrown hedges surrounding it, it had to have been a while since it had been in use. Jenkins directed her toward a large, steel door at the back of the building and, to her surprise, it began slowly sliding upward as they approached. Dana guided her car into what appeared to have been a loading area for cargo trucks and saw that a dark colored sedan and two vans, one white and the other black, were already parked there. She pulled in next to one of the vans then cut the engine.

"What is this place?" Dana asked as she and Jenkins exited the car at the same time – her eyes surveyed the area for a moment before she shut the driver's side door and moved to open the door to the backseat. Once she'd retrieved the box of notes she'd brought with her, she hurried to catch up with Jenkins.

"Old storage warehouse." Jenkins answered. He led her towards a short flight of stairs on the right side of the room then started off for a lone door at the end of the walkway. He opened it up for her when the reached it, eyeing the box in her hands all the while as she squeezed past him. "Are those your notes on SAMCRO?" He asked with raised eyebrows. When Dana nodded, he looked at her as though she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. "Jesus, we've only been here a week and you've already got a box full of notes? Don't you ever sleep, Bradshaw?"

"And this isn't even all of them." Dana revealed, making him gawk again. "Crime doesn't sleep, Jenkins. Don't you know that by now?" She then dropped the box into his unsuspecting hands with a small smirk. "Do me a favor and start wading through those, see if there's anything you can use." Dana told him, leaving him to stand and stare after her with a stunned expression as she continued on into the main part of the warehouse.

Now _this _was more like it, _this _was what Dana Bradshaw was used to. The inside of the warehouse had been transformed into a fully operational headquarters – set up on one side of the room were three gigantic dry erase boards, all covered with notes or various pictures of SAMCRO members going about their daily activities. Five tables had been assembled and placed in various positions around the warehouse, each with a different piece of equipment set up on it, but it was the wall consisting of seven large computer monitors set up on a long table in the middle of the room that drew the most attention – all but two screens were active and dedicated to a different hidden camera set up around Charming, currently playing back footage of an innocent looking town still waiting to come to life for the day. Dana almost sighed contentedly to be back in the familiar surroundings and smiled a bit as she caught sight of her team in its entirety for the first time. She smiled even wider when she saw that Joel was making his way towards where she was standing with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands.

"Morning, boss lady." He said in greeting, passing the cup over once he was standing in front of her. "Two creamers, one sugar, just like you like it."

"Thank you." Dana said gratefully, smacking her lips together appreciatively after taking the first sip. "Cheap, headquarters coffee – how I've missed it." She then said fondly.

"And where's _my_ coffee?" Jenkins asked as he caught up with them, still lugging the box of notes in his hands.

"You're on your own, man." Joel told him matter-of-factly, only sparing him a quick look before redirecting his attention to Dana and jerking his head, motioning for her to follow him. "Wanna check the place out?"

Dana nodded and immediately fell into stride with him, listening intently as he went over the extensive set-up of their current headquarters. At least a half-dozen agents, all people she knew or at least recognized, had been assembled to make up their team, and Dana nodded to them in acknowledgement as she and Joel slowly made their way around the room. She only came to a halt once they'd reached the monitors and eyed the screens with interest – three of them reflected exactly what she saw every day on her own monitor at home, but two of them were rolling footage that caught her a bit by surprise.

"That's my front patio." Dana stated in surprise, pointing to the monitor to the far left – her eyebrows rose a bit when she saw the screen above it. "And Teller's house…when did you guys do this?"

Joel shrugged and crossed his arms, turning his eyes over to the monitors for a moment. "When we moved you in." He answered, making her nod her head in understanding. "Can't be too safe, right?" Joel then asked, smiling down at her for a moment. Dana met his gaze with an appreciative look to convey her gratitude, glad that Joel had gone to such lengths to ensure her safety. "So…" Joel continued, this time with a more serious expression on his face. "Everything alright? You didn't check in last night."

Dana looked to him apologetically. "Yeah, sorry, I was a little…_preoccupied _when I got home from the bar." She said, quickly recalling how out of sorts she'd been in light of Friday night's events. "I had a less-then-friendly encounter with Jackson Teller last night. It kinda left me in a bit of a mood." Dana then confessed with a heavy sigh.

Joel immediately looked concerned. "What happened?"

"To make a long story short, he's a dickhead." Dana stated matter-of-factly in a harsh tone. "And I think it's safe to say he and I won't be having any heart-to-hearts any time soon." Joel nodded in understanding, but she could tell from his demeanor and the alarm still residing in his blue eyes that he wasn't overly pleased to hear this. "Don't worry, Joel. I've dealt with plenty of dickheads in my day." The redhead went on to reassure him. "I can handle Teller, trust me. I was just caught off guard last night."

"Alright." He conceded, albeit begrudgingly so. "But watch your back around him, Dana." Joel instructed sternly before raising his eyebrows at her. "Promise me?" He looked a little more relaxed when she nodded her agreement – in the next moment, the concerned look on Joel's face shifted to one of interest. "Is he what this meeting is about, then?"

"Not entirely." Dana said before turning her back on the screens and walking towards the middle of the room, motioning for him to follow her as she decided to get business underway.

"Alright, everyone." She called out to grab the attention of the team – everyone in the room stopped what they were doing at once to focus in on her, looking to the agent in charge with expectant eyes when she turned to face the group again. Dana surveyed the gathering of people for a moment before nodding her head and shifting on her feet. "I know some of you have probably been on surveillance all night and are ready to get some sleep, so I'll keep this as short as possible." She began. "There's been a few developments since yesterday, developments that require a new course of action – I've not only established contact with five members of the Sons of Anarchy, but, as of last night, it's also come to my attention that Harry Dupree has a business arrangement with SAMCRO."

Her announcement made many of the agents straighten up with interest, since it was the first substantial piece of information the operation had come across thus far. "Do we know what sort of arrangement?" Called out an agent named Michaels, one of their intelligence analysts.

"Not yet, which is why we're all here now." Dana said with a shake of her head. "I think we should make it a top priority to figure that out."

"How do you plan to do that?" Jenkins piped up on her right.

Dana looked over at him and shrugged. "Well, I can only ask around for so long before it'll start to look suspicious." She explained with a pensieve look on her face. "I think that if we _really_ wanna know what's going on behind closed doors, then that only leaves us with one option – we're gonna have to bug the place."

There were some nods of agreement from the various members of the team, but Jenkins frowned and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Given the circumstances, isn't that something we should have done already?" He asked haughtily.

Dana, not liking the fact that Jenkins was questioning her decisions, opened her mouth to snap back at him. But before she could get a word out, Joel was speaking up in her defense. "Dana and I discussed it, but decided against doing anything with The Goat unless a lead presented itself." He explained to Jenkins calmly. "We both agreed there was already enough for the team to watch out for as it was without adding anything else to that list."

After that was said Joel shifted his gaze back to Dana – she nodded her head to him gratefully before turning back to Jenkins. "So now that we know there _is _something going on between SAMCRO and The Goat, it's time to act." Dana told him in finishing.

Jenkins held his hands up in surrender, clearly having nothing else to say in protest, so Michaels seized the opportunity to speak up again. "So…what's the plan?" He asked with a thoughtful look on his face. "We plant some hidden cameras, stash a few mics around the place, and hope that someone says something not meant for federal ears?"

"No, I think we need to pull out all the stops for this one." Dana said with a shake of her head. "I want the phone-lines tapped in case Dupree decides to take business calls from SAMCRO while he's at the bar." She instructed, watching as several people started jotting down notes again. "He also has four security cameras set up around the building – one in his office, one behind the register, and a camera stationed at both the entrance and the back exit."

"Wow. Paranoid guy, huh?" Another man, Agent Gonzalez, interjected with raised eyebrows.

"You would be too if _you_ were the one in SAMCRO's pocket." Joel shot at him with a smirk.

Quite suddenly Joel's statement made a light-bulb turn on in Dana's head. As a face and a plan flashed through her mind, she made a mental note to have a private conversation with Joel before she left headquarters. "Anyway," Dana said, continuing on with the conversation. "I think the easiest and most _discreet _course of action would be to hack into the security cameras and use his them to our advantage, he'll never suspect a thing. Then we just have to hope that SAMCRO trusts him enough _not _to check his place out if they do business there."

"So, when does all of this go down?" Jenkins asked.

"As soon as possible – we already missed out on one meeting between Trager, Teller, and Dupree. I don't want that to happen again."

Joel pursed his lips thoughtfully, slowly nodding his head as he seemingly tried to think of a course of action. "I'll take two teams over there later tonight, after the bar's closed." He finally told her. "One team on the phonelines, the other on the security cameras – should be a piece'a cake."

"Sounds like a plan." Dana told him approvingly. "And as soon as we have access to their phonelines I want around-the-clock monitoring – we need to know what business SAMCRO brought to Dupree's attention last night, understood?" Dana received a collective murmur of understanding from the group in response. There was a brief moment where Dana considered informing the team about her encounter with Half-Sack and the possibilities that could come from a connection with him, but the agent quickly decided against it – she'd wait and see if anything progressed first, _then _she'd present Half-Sack as a possible way into SAMCRO. "That's all for now." Dana finally announced to dismiss the group. "Keep up the good work, everyone."

With that most of the team dispersed and went back to whatever they'd been doing before Dana had arrived – Joel, however, started making his way over to Dana after she motioned him to follow her with a jerk of her head. She led him away from the rest of the team and didn't stop walking until she was sure they were out of their hearing range. "What's up?" Joel asked, already with a knowing expression on his face.

"When Markum and Huff were investigating Charming, the police chief – Wayne Unser – was the man they worked around the most." She told him, recalling some of the information residing in the files Peters had given her.

"Yeah…" Joel said slowly. "You're not thinkin' about goin' to him for help, are you?" He continued warily. "Peters was pretty insistent that _no one _in Charming know we're here. Besides, it's pretty widely rumored that he's in SAMCRO's pocket – how do you think they've managed to evade arrest for so long?"

"_Exactly_." Dana countered. "And that's why I need you to get into contact with him." When she saw how confused Joel looked, she's started to explain herself. "I want you to give him a courtesy call – tell him the FBI has a new lead on the Mayor Wilson case, that we'll be in the area soon, and that we'll be expecting their cooperation…but don'ttell them _anything _about Markum and Huff or the fact that they're missing." Excitement, mixed with a smug feeling of triumph, started to course through Dana – _Let's see how SAMCRO handles __**this **__curve-ball_. "There's no doubt he'll report back to SAMCRO and warn them the FBI's coming back to town."

Joel's eyebrows raised a tick. "Is the bureau planning a visit I don't know about?"

"No." Dana said pointedly. "But _they _don't know that. I just wanna try to spook the club, stir up the wasp's nest a bit."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Joel asked skeptically. "Say Markum and Huff are still alive – what do you think will happen to them if the club goes on high alert and decides to get rid of 'em before we 'come in'?"

Dana shook her head, dismissing that thought at once. "Won't happen. Markum and Huff have been missing for almost two weeks now – if they're still alive then obviously it's because SAMCRO wants them alive for a _reason_." As these words left her mouth Dana suddenly realized how disconcerting of a thought that was, but when she saw the unconvinced look on Joel's face, she pushed it to the back of her mind for now. "Listen, I saw those guys with my own two eyes last night, Joel. They're too comfortable, too relaxed, and for all we know it's because they know they're getting away with murder right now – we need to rattle their cages and shake up that comfortable little world they live in." She told Joel earnestly. "Trust me on this."

Joel sucked in a long breath as he thought this over, before he finally heaved and nodded his head. "Alright, I'll call Unser."

Dana sighed in relief and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you." She knew she'd made the right choice coming to Joel – since day one he had done nothing but prove himself to be a loyal, dependable partner. He'd always had her back no matter what, even _if_ he wasn't always thrilled to go along with her schemes.

"Uh huh." He said before nodding his head towards the door. "Get going before I change my mind." Joel commanded. Dana nodded, hurried over to scoop up her keys and her coffee, then headed for the door. "And Dana?" She paused at the call of her name, looking back at Joel with a questioning expression. "Remember to watch your back out there."

She smirked at him before pointing towards the wall of monitors. "Why? Aren't you doin' that for me already?" Dana shot at him. When Joel looked disapproving of her response, she just laughed and continued for the door. "Kidding." She called over her shoulder.

"Ha _ha_." Joel replied dryly, looking thoroughly unamused before he turned his back on her and headed back to rejoin the team.

* * *

The first thing that Jackson saw when he woke up on Saturday was blonde hair.

It took a moment or two of blinking, but he finally focused in on the woman that he'd picked up at Dupree's the previous night; she was dead asleep with her head on his chest and it had been the tickling sensation of her hair on his nose that had woken him. Jackson pulled a face, already feeling a bit annoyed as he groaned and none-too-gently pushed her away, and instantly reached up to scratch his nose once he was free of her. The woman – his memory was a little hazy, but he thought her name was Angela – was jolted awake by the rough shove and lifted her head in befuddlement, looking around for a moment before turning her eyes on him.

"Wuzwrong?" The blonde asked sleepily, either not aware that she was still stark naked or just not caring about it as she blinked at him in confusion.

Jackson met her brown-eyed, questioning gaze with a blank expression, not finding her nearly as attractive now that he was sober and now that her mask-like make-up from the night before was smeared all over her face. "It's time for you to go." He told her bluntly, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

With that being said, he dropped one of his forearms over his eyes to shield them from the offending light pouring in through the window, not feeling even the slightest bit guilty about the dejected expression he'd spied on the blonde's face before blocking off his line of vision. Honestly, he couldn't give a rat's ass if he hurt her feelings or not; the pounding headache starting to creep in behind his eyeballs was much more bothersome at the moment. Thankfully Angela (maybe?) didn't dare to say another word as she hastily located and threw on her cloths, and Jackson was glad she didn't – the last thing he wanted to hear when he was hungover was the nagging voice of a one-night-stand he never planned to see again.

The blonde departed in record timing, leaving Jackson to sigh in relief as he listened to the sound of her retreating high-heels. He dropped his arm back onto the bed and lifted his head, checking to make sure that he was, in fact, alone – the door was still open but he didn't care enough to go and close it. Instead Jackson rolled onto his stomach and shut his eyes again, intending to sleep his hangover away for another couple hours. But just as he got settled, a loud voice suddenly cut through the silence of the room.

"Looks like ya did more then just talk business at Dupree's last night."

Jackson cracked one blue eye open to half-heartedly glare at the Mohawk-sporting biker that had just appeared in his doorway – Juice leaned against the door-frame and stared back at him, his eyebrows raised knowingly as he casually snacked on a bag of peanuts and waited for Jackson's response. "Fuck off, Juice." He grumbled. "It's too early for conversation."

Juice smirked and shook his head. "Actually it's past noon." He corrected.

Jackson finally lifted his head and glared at Juice over his shoulder. "Do you have a reason for bein' here right now?" He asked irritably – all he wanted was peace and quiet so he could get a little extra sleep. Was that really so much to ask for?

Juice moved a hand to hold up two fingers. "Two, actually." He said before grabbing another handful of peanuts. "One – your mom's lookin' for you." Jackson groaned and dropped his face down into his pillow. No doubt Gemma was going to bitch him out for deciding to spend his night with the blonde instead of picking up Abel. "And two – Clay's called a meeting, so ya might wanna get your ass outta bed before you get _dragged _out." Juice explained matter-of-factly. "Like _now_."

This made Jackson raise his head again. "Meeting? What about?" He asked curiously.

"Not sure." Juice said with a shrug of his shoulder. "But if I had to guess, I'd say it probably has somethin' to do with whatever Unser and Clay were just talkin' about."

Jackson forgot to feel miserable from his hangover as he frowned at Juice, his eyebrows furrowing together as the words registered in his head – Unser had been here? At the club? _He_ never usually came to _them_ unless something had gone down, or was on the verge of it. What had prompted the police chief to visit today? "Unser?"

"Yeah, he was just here." Juice told him before jerking his head to the side, motioning that they needed to get going. "C'mon, the guys are waitin' for us."

Jackson finally nodded his head and threw the covers off to get out of bed, taking a moment to shake off his hangover. Juice made a sound of protest at being forced to see his club brother naked as the day he'd been born, but Jackson ignored him and hastily began pulling on the first clothes he could find. Once he was fully dressed and had slipped into his shoes he then headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth – on the way back he paused by the dresser and grabbed his cut, shrugging it on over his SAMCRO t-shirt. After that the blonde biker finally headed out of his dorm room and started down the hall with Juice in tow – when they reached the main area of the clubhouse they made a beeline for the club's meeting room.

All of the Redwood Charter members were already present and accounted for and talking amongst themselves when they arrived. The air in the room was thick with cigarette and cigar smoke and heavy with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. It was a welcoming and familiar sight that immediately had Jackson feeling a lot less hungover.

"Finally." Tig said as soon as Jackson and Juice walked into the room, a note of impatience lacing his words. "The prodigal prince graces us with his presence."

"Long night with that leggy blonde, Jackie-boy?" Chibs teased with a wag of his eyebrows, causing Jackson to smirk as he shut the door and started towards his designated seat at the large, redwood table his brothers were currently sitting around.

"Somethin' like that." Jackson answered as he rounded the table, making several of the men in the room whistle in response. "Mornin', Clay." He greeted the club president, patting his step-father on the shoulder as he passed by – Clay inclined his head in greeting, yet there was a look in his eyes that Jackson couldn't quite put his finger on. The biker chose to brush it off as he lit up a cigarette and dropped into his seat on Clay's left, nodding to Half-Sack when he came around to pour him a cup of coffee.

"Alright, the meeting has officially begun." Clay stated with a pound of his gavel, making the men sitting around the table fall silent. "And since there's a lot of shit we gotta take care of in the next few days today and barely enough time to do it, let's make this quick, shall we? First things first – did everything get taken care of last night?" He asked before turning a questioning look over to Jackson. "Jax?"

Jackson nodded his head, glancing towards Opie for a quick second as he recalled their brief meeting with the leader of the Nordics, Ernest Darby. "Ope and I met up with Darby and a few of his guys at the Hairy Dog, told him that in light of recent events, you'd only accept his invitation to meet as long as it was on neutral territory for both groups." He explained as everyone's attention focused on him. "He's agreed to meeting at The Goat."

"Good." Clay said in approval. "Did he happen to give a little more insight about whatever this 'important information' he plans to share is?" Jackson shook his head in response, blowing out a large puff of smoke in the process – he'd tried to pry that information out of Darby more then once, but apparently the man was determined to remain mum on the subject until he was sitting down with Clay. "Hmph..." The grey-haired biker grunted thoughtfully, looking pensive as he thought this over until he shook his head and shifted his attention to his Sergeant-at-Arms. "And how about Dupree? Where do we stand with him?"

"He's good." Tig said with a slow nod. "Said he'd close the bar down for a couple hours tomorrow night, let us have the place completely to ourselves." He confirmed to the approval of his president. "But there is somethin' that needs to be addressed before Darby and his crew roll into The Goat." Tig continued.

"What's that?" Bobby Elvis piped up curiously, putting a voice to the inquiring expressions now residing on most of the club members' faces.

"Dupree's got a new girl workin' at The Goat." He revealed – Jackson unconsciously straightened up at the mention of his neighbor and frowned, wondering why Tig had felt it necessary to bring this to the club's attention. "Figured since Darby's decided to keep us in the dark and won't tell us what this meeting's about, it'd probably be in our best interest to make sure she ain't around tomorrow night. Just as a precaution." He explained, raising his eyebrows at Clay pointedly. "We can't have some newbie bein' witness to our business."

Jackson relaxed in his seat again, not sure why he'd reacted to the mention of Prejean, while several of the men sitting around the table nodded their agreement, Clay included. "Call Dupe after the meeting, tell him to do whatever's necessary to make sure the girl ain't there tomorrow." He instructed. "If he needs someone else workin', telll 'im Rachel's good to go."

"You got it." Tig agreed with a firm nod.

"Now, moving on…" Clay said before he straightened up in his seat and let out a long sigh. "As I'm sure many of you know by now, our favorite police chief just dropped by to have a little chat with me." He announced, making the air surrounding the club brothers thicken just the slightest bit – apparently Jackson wasn't the only one a bit apprehensive when it came to Unser's unexpected visit. "It seems Unser got a call this mornin'…a call from some fed from the FBI named Matheson. Anyone recognize the name?"

"Matheson?" Bobby asked, looking perplexed as he repeated the name to himself a few more times. Finally he shook his head. "I ain't never heard'a no fed named Matheson before, don't think he's ever been around these parts." He said before frowning. "Any particular reason this fellow decided to call?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. According to Special Agent Matheson," There was a mocking tone to Clay's voice as he spat out the federal agent's name, "there's been a lead in their case on Mayor Wilson." The room became so still and quiet after Clay revealed this information that one would have been able to hear a pin drop to the floor – there were varying looks of consternation and trepidation on each of the bikers' faces now. "Which, as I'm sure you've all guessed by now, means our town's about to be invaded by the feds again."

There was a restlessness within the motorcycle club now as this news sunk in. "Shit." Jackson huffed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in agitation. "Don't suppose he said when, did he?" He asked, dropping his hand onto the table heavily as he turned his back over to Clay. The news that feds were going to be back in Charming was just as bad as the effect this would surely end up having on their business.

His step-father smiled back at him ruefully. "Course not, that'd be too easy."

Jackson shook his head and ran a hand over his face, feeling just as bothered as the rest of his club brothers looked right then. "Ya know wha' this means, boys." Chibs piped up, leaning forward so he could look pointedly at each of the bikers around him. "We'll have'ta clean house again, make sure our arses'r covered 'fore these feds get here – my guess is they'll be comin' 'round to rip the place apart this time. We gotta get rid'a _everything_, and we gotta do it fast."

Clay leaned back in his chair with another thoughtful expression, toying with the cigar he was holding for a moment. Finally he shifted his gaze over to Jackson. "Think we can talk to Laroy again? See if he's interested in some more merchandise?"

Jackson frowned and shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno…after he already forked over all that dough last weekend?" He clicked his tongue unsurely, not feeling confident that the One-Niners would be willing to hand even _more _money over to the club so soon. "I can talk to him, but can't make any guarantees. We may need to expand our market a bit for this one, see if anyone else is interested." Jackson then suggested.

Clay nodded slowly. "Maybe…but try Laroy first. And _soon_, we can't afford to wait around on this one."

"Okay." Jackson agreed, though inwardly he wasn't thrilled about the idea of going to Oakland again – going there to meet with the Niners also meant venturing into Mayan territory. And since the rival club had been stirring up a lot of shit over the past few months, every trip that took him into Oakland always felt like a treacherous one. Jackson quickly made a mental note to pack more ammo before he left. "I'll take a trip out to Oakland later today."

"I'll go with you, brother." Opie immediately volunteered, nodding his head once with a firm expression.

"Me too." Tig offered next. "And we'll bring the prospect with us. There's no tellin' what those bat-shit crazy Mayans might have waitin' for us out there." He added, putting a voice to the thoughts in Jackson's head. "The bigger the numbers, the better the protection."

"It's settled then –Jax, Tig, Ope, and Sack will talk to the One-Niners today, tomorrow we have a sit down with the Nords." He announced, making everyone nod their understanding. "I'll keep in touch with Unser, see if I can find out when our federal friends are planning this visit. But until then, I suggest everyone keep their eyes peeled. We need to play this smart, got it?" Once everyone had announced that they understood him, Clay picked up his gavel and pounded it twice. "Meeting adjourned."

* * *

Though the day had gotten off to a temperamental start, in the end it turned out to be the first successful one for the investigation.

As predicted, Unser had gone directly to SAMCRO after receiving the call from Joel. And, as she had hoped, it seemed to have stirred up a bit of action within the club – around three in the afternoon she watched through her surveillance screens as Teller and three of his cronies hightailed it out of Teller-Morrow, looking for all the world like men on a mission. But where the team had failed to get a tail on SAMCRO the last few times they knew the bikers were leaving Charming (it was hard to remain incognito over long distances sometimes), this time they were successful; Joel and Jenkins themselves were able to follow the foursome all the way to Oakland, where they then proceeded to meet with a gangster named Laroy Wayne – it wasn't a huge lead, but it was _a _lead; there was now a small team working overtime to dig up any and every piece of information there was on the One-Niners, looking for any clues that might reveal them as accomplices of SAMCRO or connect them to things that had been happening in Charming.

All in all, Dana felt very good about the steps they'd taken that day, even more so when she remembered that she'd have The Goat streaming live to her computer come tomorrow morning. And since Dana had the night off from work at the bar and had been feeling so triumphant, she decided to help herself to a few celebratory drinks while perusing through some of the paperwork in the SAMCRO file – the usual way the FBI agent usually spent her Saturday nights.

It was around eight-forty-five when her iPhone, her personal cell, began to ring. Dana leaned over to retrieve her phone from where it lay resting on the computer desk, pausing momentarily to take another drink, but then immediately froze when she was finally able to see the name flashing on her screen.

_Paula Simmons._

Dread immediately began to swallow her up like quicksand – it had been nearly eight months since she'd last spoken to her mother, but it had been nearly three _years _since they'd last been face to face. They were not, and probably would _never_, be on good terms.

Dana sucked in a long breath, released it heavily, then shook her head as she ignored the incoming call from her mother. She couldn't talk to that woman. Not now, not tonight, not when it had been such a good day – Dana discarded the phone to the side and planned not to look at it again, but the phone beeped loudly about twenty seconds later, signaling that her mother had left a voicemail; the agent did her best not to acknowledge it. _Probably needs more money_, she thought to herself bitterly. _Or she's back on her way to rehab…which means she'll __**still **__need more money. _

With that unpleasant thought in mind she finished off her drink then dutifully turned back to the papers in front of her, determined not to even think about the message now awaiting her. But not even a few minutes ticked by before she was glancing at her phone again, wondering what was so important that her mother had reached out to her after so long.

After another ten minutes of fretting Dana finally let out a frustrated sound and hauled herself ungracefully to her feet. She snatched up her phone and her empty glass, then stomped towards the kitchen. Whiskey was poured into the glass until it was full to capacity – she was going to need a _lot _of alcohol if she was about to venture down _this _road again – before Dana retrieved a pack of cigarettes from her purse and slipped it into her back-pocket. She then grabbed her drink and her phone again and headed for the front door.

The street was quiet when she walked outside, peaceful even, and the stillness was a stark contrast from the tumult of thoughts and emotions racing through her head right then. Dana reveled in it for a moment as she lit up a cigarette, then finally, after a long few seconds, went to sit on the hood of her car. She toyed with her phone for a moment, trying to give herself one last chance to back out and save this issue for the morning, but decided she'd rather hear this now while she still had alcohol in her system to numb her emotions. So after taking one last large gulp of Jack Daniels, Dana finally sucked it up and went into her voicemail.

"_You have one new message." _The robotic voice of her voicemail announced. _"Message… _"

Dana took a long drag from her cigarette, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to hear.

"_Hi, Dana, it's me…Mom._" Sounded the slightly timid voice of her mother – a strange sensation filled her at hearing it again after so long. "_I'm sure you're busy…you know, with work and all. I was just…I was just calling to check in. It's been a long time and…you know…I worry about you." _There was a long pause. "_There is something I need to talk to you about, though…something important._" Dana scoffed – there was _always _something important to talk about when it came her mother. "_It's about your brother." _Now **that** made Dana stop right in her tracks – her brother? As in _Brannon_? "_So just…call me back, okay? And soon? I…I…" _For a second Dana thought she might say 'I love you', but then her mother just said, "_Talk to you later, Dana_" instead.

The message was over then, leaving Dana to sit there in stunned silence.

If she'd thought her mother calling was a shock, she couldn't even describe the way it made her feel knowing her mother was calling about her _brother._ Much like her relationship with Paula, her relationship with Brannon Bradshaw was _not _a good one – the last time she'd seen her older brother had been almost nine years ago and that meeting had ended in a screaming match and with Dana and Brannon agreeing that they never wanted to see each other again. Up until five seconds ago, she'd thought that was the nature of the relationship between Brannon and their mother as well. How would Paula have gotten into contact with him now? And why did she feel the need to tell Dana about it?

Dana heaved to herself, took another long drag from her cigarette, then closed out of her voicemail. _So much for having a good day_…She had just begun kneading the palm of her hand into her forehead to try and alleviate the ache that was forming there when the sound of a door opening and closing suddenly reached her ears. She froze, certain that she knew who's house that had sounded from, and listened to the sound of travelling footsteps.

_Please don't be Teller, please don't be Teller, _Dana still inwardly pleaded, closing her eyes as though that would make the newcomer disappear.

"Well, well, _well..."_ _Fuck! __**Why?! **__Why now?! _Dana dropped her head in defeat before lifting it again and turning her eyes over to a smirking Jackson Teller – it took a great deal of skill _not _to openly admire the sight he presented when she realized he was, once again, shirtless. He might be an asshole, but damn it all to hell, he was an _attractive _asshole. "I didn't think a girl like you would be a smoker."

This was not good. Not only was she already in a foul mood and half-drunk (which had the potential to be a recipe for disaster), but now Jackson Teller, The Asshole, had chosen to make an appearance only moments after a harsh blast from her past. Suddenly there were a lot of things that her whiskey-fueled mind wanted to say to him, just so that she could relieve some of the stress and the anger starting to simmer within – somehow, miraculously, she managed to hold her tongue. "I quit, actually." Dana finally responded with a pinched smile before taking a long drag on her cigarette, trying to finish it off quickly.

Teller smirked and took a few steps closer. "Yeah?" He asked, eyeing her for a moment as he stopped at the edge of his grass. The biker then reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans to pull out his own pack of cigarettes. "How's that workin' out for you so far, cupcake?" He continued sarcastically.

Hearing that stupid nickname again sounded like nails on a chalkboard – she couldn't stop herself from narrowing her eyes at him. "Why do you keep calling me that?" Dana demanded to know, letting her expression tell him exactly how unimpressed she was with it.

Teller lit up his cigarette before taking a long drag off of it. When his gaze met hers again, there was an obvious mocking gleam in his blue eyes. "Because you look as sweet and innocent as one…_cupcake._"

Dana rolled her eyes at the explanation. The man really thought he was hot shit, didn't he? It took some audacity to just label and discard people the way that Jackson Teller did. She was amazed that huge ego of his could even fit through a doorway. "Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'Don't judge a book by its cover'?" She shot back at him snippily.

"That's weird comin' from you." He shot back, looking condescendingly thoughtful. "Because _judgment_ is all I can see in those pretty blue eyes right now, Prejean."

He was egging her on, Dana was sure of it. Though _why _he continued to try and push her buttons, she had absolutely no idea. And even though she knew that getting into an argument with Jackson Teller would probably only hurt the investigation, her previous resolve was starting to crumble away - did he not remember treating her like garbage the night before? Did he not think that reason enough for her to have an attitude with him? "Well I wonder why _that_ is, _Fabio_." She tossed at him as she hopped off the hood of her car, hurling out the first semi-insulting thing that came to her somewhat intoxicated mind.

As Dana went to stand at the edge of her grass, Teller's eyebrows immediately shot up. "_Fabio?_" He asked with a sour expression. "Seriously?"

Dana smirked, crossed her arms, and tilted her head as her eyes roamed over his form – she tried not to let it show that she actually _was _admiring the toned muscles of his body. "Let's see…long, flowing, _golden _locks? Check. A body to just _die_ for? Check. Self-proclaimed ladies man? I'll say check, since I saw you leaving with that trashy blonde last night." If not for the patronizing tone in her voice or that last remark, one might have almost thought she was complimenting the man in front of her at first – Teller, however, seemed to know very well that he was being made fun of. "But are you all beauty and no brains like Fabio?" Dana shrugged and smiled at him sweetly. "Well, to be determined." She felt a huge sense of satisfaction when she spied the angry expression beginning to work its way onto his handsome face. "So what do you say, Teller? Do you think you fit the profile?"

Teller was angry, that much was obvious, but it seemed he was having a hard time thinking of a response – she doubted that he was used to women talking back to him. Finally, he said, "You should be careful who you talk to like that…_cupcake._" His tone was definitely one of warning. "It'd do you a lot of good to show some respect."

Dana continued to smile at him, actually liking the way he looked when his eyes were burning with anger. "If you want _my_ respect you have to _earn _it." She informed him matter-of-factly – this seemed to stun him into silence again. Dana, having almost completely forgotten about her cigarette, took one last drag then tossed it to the ground, stomping on it with the heel of her sandal to put it out. When she glanced back up at Teller, he was watching her with an unreadable expression. "Have a good night…Fabio."

With that she turned her back on Teller to grab her drink and her phone before walking back to her front door, ending their conversation much like Teller had the previous night; it was only because of her liquid courage that she was able to do this without so much as another look in his direction.

Once she was inside she didn't hesitate to lock the door before leaning back against it, not sure how she should feel about the encounter now that it was over with. Part of her, the part that _didn't _want to get bitched out by Carl Peters, hoped that Teller would just chalk it up to her being a drunken loud-mouth and brush it off – unfortunately, _most _of her was pretty positive that he wouldn't soon forget what had just occured, which was _not _a good thing. She wanted to get _in _with SAMCRO, not royally piss them off.

Dana thumped her head against the door before sighing and pushing herself away from it, now heading back in the direction of her study. There was nothing she could do now, the words had been said and the damage had been done. And if Teller couldn't be a man and couldn't handle a taste of his own medicine, then, quite honestly, that was his own problem. Besides, even if she _did _have regrets about this encounter come tomorrow, nothing in the world could have felt more satisfying in that moment then the knowledge that this time _she _had been the one to have the last word and _Teller_ had been left standing there like a fool in stunned silence.

* * *

**Alright, so both sides of the law have some business they're taking care of and we get a little more insight to Dana's past. How did everyone like Dana stickin' it to Jax? Holla at a girl!**


	7. Cat and Mouse

**Alrighty my little chickens, everyone grab a cup of coffee and take a seat. We're gonna have a quick little chat! **

**As always, thank you to everyone that has reviewed/alerted/favorited this story! Now I know updates aren't coming as frequently as most would like, but this story is pretty difficult to write so I'm really taking my time with it to make sure I don't screw it up. I also know that everyone is anxious to see more Dana/SAMCRO-Dana/Jax action. It's gonna come, I promise, but proceed from this point knowing that this is **_**not**_** the type of SOA story where she and Jax hop on the good foot and do the bad thing right off the bat (obviously). Remember, good things come to those who wait!**

**Confession time – if I've mapped this story out correctly, this story is going to end up being a three part series. Yes, you've read correctly…a trilogy! When I say Dana and Jax have a long road ahead of them, I mean****it! Now…who's coming along for the ride? It should be a fun one!**

**Anywho…onto the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing SOA related.**

* * *

_**Cat and Mouse**_

The next morning found Jackson Teller in his kitchen mixing up a bottle of formula for Abel. The infant was currently wiggling away and cooing in his high-chair, watching with interest as his father moved about the room. Though the child looked to be in a rather happy mood this morning, the same, unfortunately, could not be said for his father – an irritable-looking Jackson was snatching up the things he needed and moving them about with more force then was necessary, stirring up quite a ruckus in the process. He was in a mood already, even though it was barely even ten o'clock in the morning. And even though Jackson being bad-tempered was something that had become a pretty common occurrence over the past few months, his aggravation today had, for once, _not_ been brought on by thoughts of Tara Knowles.

_If you want __**my **__respect you have to __**earn **__it_. They were the words that had been rolling around in his head against his will ever since the previous night, when he'd gone outside to have a smoke and had unexpectedly ended up in a minor verbal spat with the woman living next door to him.

When he thought about it, he supposed that Dana Prejean's attitude shouldn't have been as big of a shock to him as it had, but she had still managed to catch him by surprise, and in more then one way. Plainly put, the cigarette-smoking, slightly-intoxicated woman he'd encountered last night had been vastly different from the doe-eyed version of her that he'd met on Friday. When he'd been an asshole to her at the bar – yes, he'd admit that he'd purposefully acted like a complete dick – she had done nothing in response. She'd looked as caught off guard then as Jackson had felt last night and had made no attempt to speak up in defense of herself. All in all, Dana Prejean had made him doubt what people had been saying about her completely; she had seemed weak, the type of woman that he'd be able to walk all over if he wanted to. There had been no 'bite' to the redhead at all, as Rachel had so eloquently put it.

Now, however, (and this was something he would never openlyadmit it to _anyone_) he was beginning to think that he might have judged the new girl in town a little too quickly.

It had been a _long _time since a woman (other then his mother) had dared to talk back to him the way that Prejean had. The women he was usually surrounded with knew better then to give him attitude or stand up to him, knowing very well it would only mean trouble or hurt their chances with the Vice President of SAMCRO. Prejean, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned with trying to win him over – in fact, if he didn't know any better it almost seemed as though she was daring _him _to try and win _her _over.

That thought brought his irritation to a quick halt, leaving Jackson to mull over this for a long moment as he heard her voice in his head again. _If you want __**my **__respect you have to __**earn **__it…_The words might have only been fueled by the large glass of alcohol she'd been drinking at the time, but that sure sounded like a challenge if he'd ever heard one. And even if she had made damn sure that he knew she was insulting him last night, Jackson wasn't the 'brainless' idiot she seemed to think he was.

There had been a look in her eyes last night when she'd first spotted him, though it had only been there for a few brief seconds. It was one that countless women had directed at him over the years and one that he recognized very well – Prejean could take as many jabs at him or his appearance as she wanted, but Jackson was still was fairly certain that she _did _find him attractive but was trying very hard to hide that fact from him. And this was another intriguing thought; Jackson was used to women practically groveling at his feet and begging for his attention, trying with all their might to impress him and find a way into his bed. When was the last time he'd met a woman that _wasn't_ a sure thing, that would actually make him _work _for it? Hell, Dana Prejean might very well be one of the first ones…and as much as he hated to admit it, the realization did somewhat pique his interest.

Jackson finally finished making Abel's breakfast and walked over to the highchair to give it to him, watching as the ten-month old grabbed hold of the bottle and began to happily suck the formula down. The biker then took a seat at the table to keep an eye on Abel while he ate, but the thoughts in his head were still centered on the redhead next door.

He knew next to nothing about the woman, save for whatever Bonnie-Jean had already told him, and up until now it hadn't exactly been his plan _to _learn anything about her; it had seemed like a good idea not to get mixed up with his attractive neighbor, even if it was just to be friends. But as Jackson continued to think about their interaction and the things she'd said – she'd actually had the nerve to dub him _Fabio_, for Christ's sake – he found that his decision to steer clear of Dana Prejean was beginning to become a thing of the past. Something had awoken inside of Jackson now, though he wasn't sure if that something was good or bad just yet. And quite suddenly he had made up his mind concerning the redhead next door – if it was a challenge that she was presenting to him, then that was one that he would have no choice but to accept. After all, Jackson Teller had never been one to back down from a challenge before, so why should he start now?

He couldn't help it – he smirked to himself, feeling much less irritated and much more predatory now, even fired up in a way he hadn't been in a long time over the thought of the upcoming chase.

Dana Prejean had no idea what she had just gotten herself into.

* * *

Dana was awoken Sunday morning when the phone on her nightstand let out a loud beep, something she was becoming fairly used to by now. The agent blinked blearily for a moment, reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes, before glancing at the clock – _11:02am. _Having always hated sleeping so late into the day, Dana frowned in disapproval – she supposed that's what she got for trying to erase the unfavorable encounter with Teller from her memory by drinking copious amounts of whiskey. And unfortunately it seemed that a hangover-induced migraine was the only thing she'd achieved by making friends with her bottle of Jack Daniels the night before – now that Dana was a little more awake, she could feel a throbbing pain starting to creep up from the base of her skull.

The phone beeped again, reminding her exactly what had woken her in the first place. Dana rolled onto her stomach, blanching as the room tilted a bit, then snatched up the offensive cell phone. But as soon as she actually read the message waiting for her, the redhead's hangover quickly became long forgotten.

Dana was out of her bed and on her feet in the blink of an eye. She only took one moment to wobble unsteadily before collecting herself and hurrying for the front door. Despite the fact that she normally wasn't one to prance around outside wearing only a pair of shorts and a tank-top, Dana didn't think twice as she threw open the front door and immediately marched in the direction of the mailbox – she only spared Teller's house one glance and was actually quite surprised to see that his bike was still present, since he was usually gone by this point in the day.

When Dana finally reached the mailbox and found what was waiting inside she immediately smiled in satisfaction – as promised, there was a flash drive taped to the inside. She snatched it up, shut the mailbox, then headed back inside with the present in her hand. Once in the house Dana went to collect her phone again, flipped it open, then pressed the speed-dial button that would connect her to Joel before heading into her study.

"Matheson." Joel greeted only a few rings later. "And I'm very busy and important, so make it quick."

"You're amazing." Dana said simply as she plopped down in front of her computer – most of the footage still rolling on her computer screen showed nothing of interest at the moment, just the usual activity that took place around the three separate locations at this time of day. "Have I told you that recently?"

"Actually, no." He answered as she minimized the camera footage already rolling and began installing the data from the drive. "Haven't heard that in a couple of months." Joel told her. "What's up with that?"

"Well, I'm saying it now – you're amazing." She clarified, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement as she waited for the data to finish downloading. It would only be a few more moments before she would have The Goat streaming live to her computer. "Remind me again – why did we break up?"

"Hmmm…" Joel responded thoughtfully. "I seem to remember there being something about how you were a workaholic or afraid of commitment...somethin' like that." He told her in an unaffected tone. Those were, in fact, the _exact_ two reasons Joel had given her when he'd ended their two month long relationship some three years previous, only back then they'd been said much more angrily. "And if you're asking because you've suddenly realized what a smart, handsome, hilarious man I am, then I'm afraid I have to inform you that you've missed your chance, Bradshaw. This ship has _sailed_."

Dana rolled her eyes good-naturedly and cracked a smile at his words. "However will I survive?" She asked dramatically.

"It'll be difficult, but I'm sure you'll find a way to cope…eventually." He reassured her at once. Dana laughed at this and shook her head – she and Joel both knew they were _much _better off being just friends then trying to be a couple. Honestly she was just glad that they'd been able to overcome their personal differences so that they could salvage their professional relationship; she and Joel had always made an excellent team. "Footage up and running yet?" Joel asked curiously.

"Seventy-percent downloaded." Dana told him as she relaxed in her chair. "So…" She continued. "Anything to report on the One-Niners?"

Joel heaved on the other end of the line, something she could only take as a bad sign.  
"Nothing that connects them to Mayor Wilson _or _Markum and Huff, but we're still digging." That was disappointing to hear, but at the same time Dana wasn't very surprised. Truthfully she hadn't been expecting much from that particular lead to begin with. "What was all that with Teller last night?"

Dana blinked in confusion for a moment, trying to ascertain how he knew that she had spoken with the blonde biker next door, then smacked her forehead when she remembered the two cameras directed at both her and Teller's houses. "It was nothing, just a…neighborly chat." She finally lied, cringing both out of apprehension and embarrassment when all of her words from the previous night came rushing back to her – Fabio? _Really_? Dana was almost ashamed of herself for having not come up with a better way of insulting him.

"Hmph…" Joel grunted skeptically on the other end of the line. It was clear he wasn't convinced with her lie. "You know, you've never been very good at lying to me, Dana." He reminded her, making her heave and roll her eyes again. "But I'll let it go for now…just remember, watch – "

" – my back." She interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. "Yeah, I know." Dana continued, almost impatiently, before straightening up in her chair again when the files on the USB flash drive finished downloading. A few clicks of her mouse later an entirely new set of surveillance screens was rolling on her computer, all showing a deserted-looking Billy Goat Gruff. "Alright, I'm up and running." Dana announced happily, her eyes darting between the four squares as thoughts of Teller were pushed to the back of her mind.

"Good." Joel said in approval. "And just so you know, there wasn't any audio feed linked to those cameras at first – lucky for you I'm a genius. We stashed a few mics around the joint and synched them up to the security system. The audio might be a bit delayed, but at least now its there." Dana frowned unsurely at hearing this and started to say something about it, but Joel beat her to the punch. "And no, nobody should be able to find them unless they decide to turn the place inside out." He continued, answering her unspoken question. "Don't worry, this ain't my first rodeo."

Dana relaxed in her seat again, nodding her head even though her fellow agent couldn't see her doing it. "And how are we on the phonelines?"

"Golden – any call going in or at of that place will be heard by us and recorded."

Dana ran a hand through her sleep-mussed hair and released a long sigh, happy to know that her team had seen her instructions successfully carried out. She made a quick mental note to herself to call Peters and update him on the steps they'd taken in the past few days, hoping this would be enough to appease him and continue to let her be in charge. "Good work, Joel. And pass that along to the team, too." Dana complimented as she got up from her chair and headed back in the direction of her bedroom. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, okay? I got a little too friendly with my bottle of Jack last night…I'm pretty sure I have whiskey seeping out of my damn _pores _right now – I need a shower something fierce."

"Alright." Joel responded. "You know the drill, I'll call you if we learn anything new."

"Likewise." Dana reciprocated. "Talk to you later."

With that she clicked the phone shut and tossed it carelessly onto her bed. She took a moment to pause and stretch out her neck before her eyes shifted down to the nightstand beside her, where her iPhone was idly resting. The agent hesitated for a second then picked it up to see if she'd received anymore calls from her mother while she'd been in her drunken slumber – Dana breathed a sigh of relief to learn that Paula had not attempted to call her for a second time, but did furrow her eyebrows in slight confusion to see that she now had a missed call and voicemail from Harry Dupree. The message he'd left for her was rather vague, however, so she quickly went into her call log and clicked on his name to call him back.

"Hey, Dana." Dupree said in greeting once he'd answered the phone. "How's it goin'?"

"Can't complain too much, Dupree." Dana answered with a small frown, wondering why her new boss had felt the need to speak with her _now_ when she knew they would be working at the bar together that night. "I just got your message…what's up?"

"I was actually calling to talk to you about your shift tonight." He stated, making her frown deeper in uncertainty. "We've got a bit of a private party coming in tonight. A few regulars rented out the place for a couple hours so them and their friends could have the bar to themselves, some kind bachelor party or somethin'." Dupree explained to her. "Anywho, they've requested that Rachel be their bartender tonight, so why don't you just go ahead and take the rest of the weekend off – look at it as a bonus for doing so well in training this past week, or even a welcome aboard gift if you will."

Maybe it was just a habit of hers to always try and read between the lines, but something about this conversation felt a little strange to her. A private party was going to be held at The Goat on – of _all _nights – a Sunday? And Dupree thought this was reason enough to give her the entire night off? Honestly, it was a bit strange. After working for him for a week she'd come to learn that while Harry Dupree was lenient in some areas – like having drinks with customers, for example – he was rather strict when it came to his employees missing work. In fact, Dana could distinctly recall a night last week where Dupree had been in an incredibly irritable mood after Ross had called in sick, since they were already short-handed and Ross' absence had put them in a bit of a bind. Needless to say, the offer he'd just given her didn't really seem like Dupree's style.

"Are you sure? I know how short-staffed we are – I could at least come in and help after the party's gone." She offered, her mind working a mile a minute to try and understand this turn of events.

"No, no. Don't worry about it. Rachel and I will be able to take care of everything." Dupree responded quickly, maybe even a little _too _quickly – others might not have thought twice about his hasty response, but it only fueled the fire of suspicion where the federal agent was concerned. "Just go ahead and stay home tonight and recuperate for the upcoming week. I expect you to come back fresh and ready to work tomorrow."

"Alright…" Dana finally agreed slowly. "I'll see you tomorrow at four then."

"Excellent. See ya."

Dana ended the call and frowned to herself, staring at her phone in wonderment; if she didn't know any better, she'd think Dupree was trying to keep her away from The Goat tonight. As that thought registered, quite abruptly Dana was struck with an idea – did all of this have something to do with the business that SAMCRO had brought to his attention on Friday? It would certainly make sense if it did. The Sons of Anarchy clearly trusted Dupree and seemed rather friendly with Rachel – Dana didn't think it too far fetched that they would conduct business at Billy Goat Gruff if they needed to. And, if that was the case, they would undoubtedly only want people that they trusted hanging around the bar…as of this moment, Dana was _not _one of those people.

The agent set her iPhone down before scooping up the silver flip-phone she'd just discarded. Her fingers jumped around on the keypad as she typed out a quick message to Joel, explaining both the conversation that she'd just had with Dupree and her theories on what it might mean. If SAMCRO was going to be up to something tonight, then she wanted to make sure that team was well aware of it and that they didn't miss one thing. And in that moment, as her mind raced with the possibilities of what tonight might have in store for the investigation, Dana had never been happier that she'd given the green-light to bug Billy Goat Gruff – Dupree could try to keep her away all he wanted, the team was still going to be able to see and hear everything that happened in that bar regardless if she was there or not.

And there was nothing that Dupree or SAMCRO could do to stop that.

* * *

Luck seemed to be on her the agent's side on this particularly sunny Sunday – around three o'clock in the afternoon, while watching an unsuspecting Dupree tend to paperwork in his office, her new boss received a phone call on his personal cell. Though she wasn't entirely sure who called him (he hadn't said any names and she could only hear his end of the conversation), Dana was fairly certain it had been a member of SAMCRO – she'd heard Dupree first confirm that the bar would be closed to the public from six o'clock to seven-thirty, before he then proceeded to inform whoever he was speaking to that Dana herself would not be present. It all sounded very promising to her and she had immediately called Joel (who had also been listening to the same conversation) to let him know that she'd be at the headquarters no later then five-forty-five so they could watch whatever was about to happen at Billy Goat Gruff together.

It was about five o'clock when Dana stepped out of her house with the intention of going to pick up a box of donuts for the team before heading to meet up with them. She paused when she stepped outside, however, not all that surprised to see the green Cherokee that she knew belonged to Neeta – the nanny working under Teller – parked by the curb. What _did _surprise her, though, was the fact that Teller himself had also just stepped out of his house and was currently heading for his bike. Dana rolled her eyes to the heavens for a second before sucking in a deep breath and turning to lock her front door.

She'd been hoping that she wouldn't have to face him so soon after their little altercation the night before – luck, apparently, was _not _on her side anymore.

There was no doubt in her mind that Teller had spotted her as she started making her way down her porch steps, and Dana chanced a look at him from the corner of her eye. He was wearing his typical garb – white sneakers, baggy jeans, a plaid shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck, and his leather cut – and he slowed to a stop by his bike to watch her with a tiny smirk on his lips.

"Cupcake." He called out to her in greeting. His tone was hard to decipher, even for her, a skilled agent that normally had no problems reading people.

Dana paused by her car and turned to face him with a sardonic smile. "Fabio." She greeted back before sliding on a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses and unlocking her car.

"Off to work?" He asked, tilting his head to the side with that smirk still in place.

_You know damn well I'm not_, she thought in her head. "Not tonight." Dana told him, not surprised at all when this news didn't appear to affect him. Her next words came out before she could stop them. "Off to pick up some riff-raff to keep you company?"

While Dana inwardly cringed and mentally berated herself for not being able to hold her tongue, Teller only smirked wider and shook his head. "Maybe…the day's still young." He said with a shrug – Dana was glad she was wearing her sunglasses so he couldn't see her rolling her eyes. "Jealous?" He asked next, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Don't flatter yourself, Fabio." She shot at him before opening the driver's side door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some errands to run."

Before he could say anything else she got in her car and slammed the door shut, wanting to get away from him before she said anything else that might get her into trouble. He certainly didn't seem as angry with her as she'd thought he might be, but, then again, maybe that was just because he was as good of an actor as she was. Dana chanced another look in his direction, unsurprised to see that he was still watching her as he fixed his helmet over his blonde hair, before she turned on the ignition and pulled out of her driveway.

Only a few minutes later, as she started making her way out of the neighborhood and driving in the direction of town, an all-too-familiar rumbling sound reached her ears – she glanced back in her review mirror to see that Teller had caught up to her on his loud Harley and was directly behind her. She didn't think this too odd at first, since both Billy Goat Gruff and Teller-Morrow (two possible places he might be going to) were in the same direction that she was going, but when Dana pulled into the first convenience store she came across some ten minutes later to pick up a pack of cigarettes, it was hard not to notice that Teller did as well.

"Are you following me?" Dana demanded to know as soon as she stepped out of her car, slamming the door shut in the process and pulling off her sunglasses so that he could see the narrowing of her eyes.

Teller cut the engine to his bike, shooting her a humored look when he took off his own riding glasses and slipped his helmet off again. "Don't flatter yourself, cupcake." He shot back at her, echoing her previous words. "It's a small town – we're gonna bump into each other from time to time."

Dana watched him for a moment before heaving and heading for the entrance to the convenience store, feeling thoroughly annoyed with Jackson Teller right then – it was official, she _hated _small towns. Teller was off of his bike and on his feet fairly quickly, trailing right behind her the entire way to the door, and she was acutely aware of his presence the entire way, even more so when he quickly bypassed her and opened the door before she could reach out to do it herself. Dana froze at once as he held the door open for her, eyeing him untrustingly, until he finally said, "Ladies first."

They stared one another down as she squeezed past him – Dana had to diligently ignore the appealing, masculine scent of leather, soap, and cologne that reached her nose when she did this. And as though he were her shadow he was right on her heels as she headed for the counter, where a younger, attractive woman was working. "Can I get a pack of Marlboro Reds, please?" She asked the girl, already fishing around in her purse for her wallet.

"Five-nineteen." The girl said once she'd retrieved the cigarettes and set them down on the counter.

Dana started to hand the money over, but Teller's hand brushing hers to the side made her stop dead in tracks. "I've got it, cupcake." He told her before stepping in front of her and smiling charmingly at the girl behind the counter, who immediately flushed in response. "How it goin', Louise?"

"Just fine, Jax." The girl said in response, flashing him a very flirty smile. Dana glanced back and forth between them for a second, unable to help wondering if this woman had become one of the notches on Jackson Teller's bedpost. "The usual?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, darlin'."

While Louise turned to grab what Teller had asked for, Dana quirked an eyebrow at the blonde biker and placed a hand on her hip. "I can buy my own cigarettes, Teller." She told him pointedly, even quirking an eyebrow at him.

As Teller turned around to face her again, she suddenly realized just how close they were actually standing to one another – he stood a good five inches taller then her and it made her shift on her feet a bit uncomfortably, his close proximity making her nervous for more then one reason. "I know you can." He responded with raised eyebrows.

"Then why – " She began to argue stubbornly.

"Would ya just shut up and let me buy you a pack of smokes?" Teller interrupted quickly, immediately making her protest die on her lips. "Consider it a peace offering." He continued, catching her by surprise.

"A peace offering?" She echoed unsurely – what the hell was he playing at?

"Yeah. We _are _neighbors, Prejean." He said as though she needed reminding of that. "Wouldn't it be better for everyone if we _weren't _biting each other's heads off all the time?"

Dana was still suspicious of his motives but held her tongue this time. Teller seemed pleased that she didn't argue any further and turned back around as he pulled his wallet out to pay for their items – when she looked to see what Teller's 'usual' order consisted of, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting about the fact that a pack of condoms was one them. Once he'd paid for their things, he scooped up her cigarettes and offered them to her. Dana eyed them for a moment before taking them from him with a begrudging expression.

"Thanks." She told him, though it required having to push down her pride to do so.

He smirked at her again, holding her gaze steadily. She shifted uncomfortably for the second time, since she was yet again unsure of what the look in his eyes meant. "Don't mention it."

With that being said, Teller said his goodbye's to Louise (who was looking at Dana with open dislike by this point) and the two neighbors turned to leave. Once again, Teller held the door open for her and motioned for her to go through first. Dana had to admit that she was wildly confused by the shift in him – the last two times they'd been face to face he'd been a complete asshole to her and had certainly not seemed like he was interested in being friends. Why was he suddenly being nice, even the slightest bit chivalrous? Was he up to something or was he really just trying to make peace with her?

"Gotta run, cupcake." Teller said once they were outside again – this time he said her new nickname without any maliciousness. "Enjoy the smokes."

"Yeah…" Dana said slowly, watching as he got situated on his bike and started strapping on his helmet. "Thanks again."

Teller nodded his head, slipped on his riding glasses, then brought his motorcycle to life with a loud roar. He shot her one more smirk as he slowly walked his bike backwards before he was turning his bike around and tearing off out of the parking lot, leaving Dana to stare at the Reaper on his retreating back in bewilderment until he had disappeared down the road.

* * *

"You know…I seem to remember breaking into a bar and hacking into their security system last night so that you _wouldn't _have to come all the way out here to spy." Joel reminded her thoughtfully once she had pulled into the old, abandoned warehouse about twenty minutes later and was getting out of her car.

Dana just shrugged at him in response. "Your monitors are much bigger and much better then mine – I have a good feeling about tonight and I don't wanna risk missing something important." She reasoned before walking over to him and plopping a box of donuts into his hands. "For the team." Dana informed, smirking when he pulled a face.

"How cliché of you." He said before frowning at her with concerned eyes. "You really shouldn'thave come here, Dana." Joel continued, not dropping the subject yet. "It might start to look a little suspicious if you keep disappearing for hours on end."

Dana sighed and nodded. "I know, I know. I won't come again after this weekend unless it's something important, okay? I promise."

Joel watched her for a moment before nodding his head and then motioning for her to follow him towards the main part of the warehouse. "So…wanna elaborate on what's been going on with Teller?" He prodded as they ambled along. "He still bein' an asshole?"

Dana pursed her lips, shrugging a shoulder at Joel. "I don't know what's goin' on there anymore, to be honest." She admitted. "One minute he's a dickhead and the next he's opening doors for me and buying my cigarettes. He's more temperamental then a pregnant woman." She sighed again, thinking back to the encounter that had been replaying in her mind since she'd left the convenience store. "I think he's up to something."

Joel looked over at her in amusement. "Paranoid much?" He shot at her.

Dana shot him a look. "I'm a federal agent – being paranoid is part of the job description."

Joel and Dana entered the main part of the warehouse after that and reconvened with the team waiting inside, so they decided to drop the subject of Teller for the time being. While Joel went to go and set the box of donuts on a table, which most of the agents readily attacked, Dana went to check in with Agent Carhart, the female currently keeping tabs on Billy Goat Gruff's phonelines – unfortunately, Dupree had yet to receive any calls that might rouse suspicion or seemed out of the norm.

"Hey, Dana?" Agent Michaels called to her, catching her attention – when she looked over to him, he gestured towards the large monitors set up in the middle of the room. "Looks like Dupree's clearin' the place out already."

Dana walked over to the monitors and crossed her arms, seeing that Michaels was right and that Harry Dupree was in the process of ushering out the bar's few patrons. "Give me the sound for camera three." She instructed, indicating the camera located behind the bar. "And bring it front and center." She added. Once camera three was running on the screen directly in front of her, she was able to see Dupree a bit better – Rachel, Dana also noted, was already behind the bar.

" – _for the inconvenience, but we'll only be closed for a few hours._" Dupree was apologizing to a particularly irritated looking fellow. "_Come back at seven-thirty, we'll give you a few rounds on the house. How's that sound?_" The customer was appeased then and finally walked out the door, followed by a handful of more people over the next few minutes. As soon as the bar was cleared out Dupree locked the front door and flipped over the sign hanging there, indicating that the bar was now closed. He then turned to Rachel and nodded his head to her. "_Get the back door for me, Rach?_"

Dana looked down at her watch – _5:52. _"Alright, if SAMCRO's coming then they should be here any minute now. Are we all set up?" Dana asked, looking over at Michaels for answers.

"Audio and video are already recording, we'll be good to go." Michael reassured her, flashing a thumbs up.

Dana nodded and then turned her attention back to the screen, her eyes shifting to the two monitors rolling footage of the front and back entrances. She sucked in a deep breath then released it slowly, waiting patiently for anything to happen. It only required a few more minutes of waiting before a group of Harleys could be spotted making their way down the street. When they stopped in front of The Goat, she smiled in triumph – she had been right, SAMCRO _had _come to Billy Goat Gruff tonight.

"Well, looks like you were right." Joel said as he came to stand next to her.

Dana smirked at him. "Always a tone of surprise." She chastised teasingly before looking back to the screens. "Here we go…"

* * *

Jackson shuffled into Billy Goat Gruff behind Clay and Tig, lighting up a cigarette to try and make himself feel a little less on edge about this upcoming meeting with the Nords. Tig and Dupree hugged each other in greeting, patting each other on the back, before Clay moved in to do the same – Juice, he noticed, had already made his way to the bar and was smiling flirtatiously at Rachel. "Thanks for doin' this." Clay was telling Dupree when Jackson went over to greet the man.

"No problem, no problem." Dupree told Clay earnestly before nodding his head to Jackson welcomingly. "How's it goin', Jax?"

"Sup, Dupe." He said, patting him on the back for a moment before continuing on to the bar. "Bar's open for us, right?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah, help yourselves guys." Dupree announced before moving to greet the rest of the SAMCRO members filing into the bar.

Jackson walked up to the counter and sat on the barstool next to the one Juice was occupying. It seemed the younger Son was currently trying (and failing) to flirt with Rachel, whom he'd had a thing for for quite some time now. " – just souped up the engine and everything. It'd be a good time, I promise."

Rachel smiled sweetly at him before shaking her head. "Sorry, Juice." She said with a shrug, not looking very sympathetic at all. "What can I say? You're just not my type."

Jackson almost laughed at the dejected, wounded-puppy-dog expression that took over Juice's face – Jackson was actually pretty sure that Rachel _did _like Juice, only she wanted him to actually work for it before she'd give in to him. He'd never told Juice this, though, thinking it was much funnier to watch him get tortured by the woman. "Ouch." Jackson said before nodding his head to Rachel. "What up, Rach?"

"Hey, Jax." She greeted brightly. "Usual?"

"Always." He said with a nod before nudging Juice with his elbow. "When ya gonna give up, man?" Juice just grumbled to himself and snatched his drink up before taking a long gulp. Rachel was looking pretty proud of herself when she placed Jackson's drink in front of him a moment later. "Thanks, darlin'."

"Scared off my new friend, yet?" Rachel asked with a dangerous quirk of her eyebrow.

This question immediately made his thoughts turn back to the pretty redhead in question, pulling a smirk from – he knew he'd confused the _hell _out of Prejean earlier by _not _acting like an asshole, he'd seen it in her eyes. But before he could answer her question and tell her they had actually made peace for now, Juice curiously asked, "New friend? A new _guy _friend or _girl _friend?"

"_Jesus, _Juice...a _girl._" Rachel told him impatiently before rolling her eyes and walking away – Jackson just shook his head at him, silently telling him he'd made the wrong move.

"Hey guys!" Half-Sack's call caught the attention of the bikers now sitting in various places around the bar. The prospect had been ordered to stand at the door and keep watch for the Nords. "We got company."

Jackson immediately put out his cigarette in an empty glass and got to his feet, drink in hand. He went to stand right next to Clay, who had taken a seat at a table in the middle of the room, while Tig pulled two handheld detectors out of a bag that he'd brought with him – he tossed one to Dupree before they both headed for the door. The rest of the SAMCRO members made their way over to where Jackson and Clay were so that they could occupy the tables nearby. Then they waited.

Ernest Darby was the first to walk in, followed by five or six of his cronies, and in an instant the air in the room shifted from light and companionable to incredibly tense. His eyes scanned the crowd of bikers, lingering on Clay for a moment, until he turned a flat look on Tig when the biker stepped up and wiggled the detector in his face. "Is that necessary?" Darby asked, sounding a little annoyed with the idea of being scanned for any hidden devices.

"These are strange times we're livin' in." Tig said weirdly, smirking at Darby. "You don't get checked, you don't come in – simple as that."

Darby finally raised his hands and let Tig begin to scan him, Dupree doing the same with one of the other Nords. Once Darby was cleared he walked further into the bar but didn't come to take the seat across from Clay just yet. He waited until the rest of his Aryan brothers had been scanned as well, then, once they'd joined him, finally made his way over to the table in the middle of the room. "Clay, Jax, boys." He said in greeting, nodding his head a few times.

"Darby." His stepfather greeted in return while Jackson nodded his head to him once – he hated Ernest Darby but tried not to show it too much right then. "Please." Clay continued with a deceivingly friendly smile and gesture of his hand. "Take a seat." Darby pulled the chair out and got settled while his men stood behind him like bodyguards. "Can I interest you in a drink? The liquor here is top notch."

Darby tapped his fingers on the table, never turning his eyes away from Clay. "I wouldn't mind a whiskey sour." He stated.

Clay didn't turn his eyes away from the man in front of him either, even though it was Rachel that he addressed next. "Rachel, can we get our friend here a whiskey sour?" Jackson could already hear the sounds of Rachel making Darby's drink from the bar on his left. "Any of you boys thirsty?" Clay offered Darby's men, raising his eyebrows at them. He was met with silence, and their lack of response sparked a bit of annoyance within Jackson – instead of saying something about it, he took a long gulp of his drink. "What, are they shy?" The club president asked.

"Just a bit." Darby confirmed, looking completely at ease with the situation even those his men did not. "So…how ya been, Clay?"

"Busy, as always." Clay told him calmly. "Did you come here to make idle chit chat? Or do ya actually have some information for me?"

Jackson immediately tensed as he waited for the poor reaction Darby would probably have to Clay's curt question, but the white supremacist actually looked unaffected by the biker's tone, even laughed a bit. "Can't I at least have a drink before we delve into business?" He asked with a smirk.

Jackson felt his annoyance spike but covered it up by downing his drink. Everyone went silent for a long moment, watching as the two leaders stared one another down – the only movement in the room came from Rachel as she made her way over to deliver Darby's drink before hightailing it back to the bar. Darby picked up his drink, took a long gulp, then smacked his lip in appreciation. "Better?" Clay asked sarcastically.

"Much." Darby responded, setting his drink down before relaxing in his seat. He eyed the group of bikers again before furrowing his eyebrows in a seemingly thoughtful expression. "You boys look tense. Been havin' some trouble recently?" He questioned, though judging by the gleam in his eye, Jackson was pretty sure Darby not only knew _exactly_ how much trouble the club had been dealing with recently.

"Just a bit." Clay told him with a pinched smile.

"I'm surprised you've even been able to keep business goin', what with all the feds that've been hangin' around." Darby continued. "It's impressive really."

Jackson looked down at Clay when he let out a long heave and leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands together atop the table and raising his eyebrows at Darby. "Darby, clearly you know we've got a lot on our plates. If you're just here to bullshit and waste my time, then I've got more important places to be. I'm done with whatever game you're playing." He said irritably before starting to get to his feet.

He didn't make it very far before Darby spoke up again. "Alright, alright." Darby said, holding a hand up – Clay hesitated before sinking back into his seat. Darby was silent for a few moments before he finally spoke up again. "Last week a mutual friend invited me to come and visit him out in Oakland…to talk 'business'." He revealed.

Jackson knew who he was talking about in an instant, and it was the very man that had been stirring up so much trouble for the Sons of Anarchy in recent months. "Alvarez?" He asked with a frown. When Darby nodded in confirmation, Jackson and Clay shared a look – Darby had teamed up with Marcus Alvarez in the past and that had never once meant good news for SAMCRO. "What did he want?"

"What has Alvarez always wanted?" Darby asked him pointedly. "The one thing he's always been denied – access to Charming."

"SAMCRO is in charge of Charming, not you." Jackson reminded the white supremacist pointedly. He noticed that a number of Darby's mean shifted on their feet when he said this.

"Yes, I'm aware." Darby spat back with a note of irritation in his voice. "He tried to buy me off, tried to get the power of the Nords behind him." Jackson nearly snorted at hearing this, thinking there wasn't much 'power' to the Nordics at all. He didn't say this outloud though.

"Why? What's he planning?" Clay asked, looking very interested.

Darby sighed and shrugged. "That I don't know." He admitted – Jackson narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if he was lying to them, before deciding that it seemed as though he was telling the truth. "But whatever it is he's planning…it's big, much bigger then anything in the past. He's recruiting, building up allies. He wants to take SAMCRO down."

"He's been tryin' to do that for years." Clay reminded Darby in a measured tone. "And he's never succeeded…And guess what?" He grinned widely now, looking almost manic. "That ain't gonna change anytime soon."

"This is different, Clay." Darby said with a shake of his head. "Or at least it _feels _different…dangerous. He's a man on a mission now and I don't think he'll stop until he's got you under that ugly, snake-skin boot heel of his." Jackson and Clay shared another look but turned their attention back to Darby when he straightened up. "Which leads us to our next order of business…SAMCRO and the Nords teaming up against the Mayans."

Jackson didn't like the sound of that at all, and, judging by the disapproving grumbles of his brothers behind him, neither did they – they all knew that Darby and the Nords wanted Charming just as bad, if not _more_ then the Mayans did. And if memory served him correct, the Mayans _hadn't _been the only ones stirring up problems for the club recently. "Now why would we do somethin' like that?" Clay asked, obviously not very fond of the idea either. "We ain't into your kinda business, Darby. We don't want your bullshit associated with the club and we sure as _hell _don't want it in our town."

Darby held a hand up again. "I know, you've made that very clear." He shot back. "But the last thing _I_ want is a bunch of wetbacks runnin' loose in Charming." Darby shifted in his seat and pursed his lips. "Listen, this is _my _home, too. And as much as I hate to admit it, you guys keep this town the way it's supposed to be." He said, looking as though it pained him very much to say the words. "I'm getting' tired of fighting you, Clay." He said simply. "And if teaming up with SAMCRO is what it takes to make sure everything stays the way it should, well…sometimes ya just gotta bite the bullet."

Silence fell over the gathering of men as Clay mulled this proposal over. After a few moments he finally sighed, glanced at Jackson, then looked back to Darby. "Given our history, this is something the club'd gonna have to take a little time to think about…you understand." Jackson was relieved to hear it, because this was one subject that was going to require a lengthy discussion.

Darby nodded. "Fair enough." He responded. "But I suggest you come to a decision quickly." He added, raising his eyebrows. "If not…it could mean bad news for Charming's citizens."

Clay slowly nodded his head. "You'll have an answer soon enough."

Darby nodded and then got to his feet, extending a hand in Clay's direction. Clay hesitated for a second before following his lead and grasping the man's hand in a firm shake. When Darby offered his hand to Jackson next he seriously considered not shaking it, but he decided against it and did so anyway. "Boys." Darby said, nodding his head to the rest of the Sons. Then he downed the rest of his drink before turning on his heel to leave.

"Leaving so soon?" Clay asked, though he seemed perfectly fine with the idea of the Nords leaving.

Darby turned back around for a quick second. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't wanna outstay our welcome." He said before motioning for his men to follow him to the door.

One by one Darby and his crew filed through the door, some shooting looks at the Sons over their shoulders while others chose not to acknowledge them again. No one moved again until the last Nord had walked through the door and exited the building, then everyone seemed to collectively release the breath that they had been holding, relaxing now that their rivals were gone – Dupree, without even a moment of hesitation, went to lock the door behind them.

"Well!" Chibs called loudly to break the silence. "I don't know 'bout you boys, but _I _need'a shot after tha'!"

While Chibs, Juice, and Half-Sack went back to the bar, Bobby, Piney, Tig, and Opie stayed where they were sitting. "He's full of shit." Bobby said to Clay with raised eyebrows. "And he's up to somethin', I can practically smell it on him."

Clay brought a hand up to rub his chin pensively. "Darby may bullshit us about a lot of things, but I don't know if Marcus Alvarez is one of 'em." He said slowly before crossing his large arms over his chest.

"If Alvarez _is _recruiting, there's no telling how long it's been goin' on for or how many guys he's got on his side now." Piney spoke up wisely, smoking a cigar in spite of the fact that he had an oxygen tank hooked up to him. "It's somethin' we need to look into whether Darby's an ally or not."

"Any chance Darby will be pissed off enough to team up with Alvarez if we refuse him?" Jackson asked with raised eyebrows.

"There's always a chance Darby will turn on us no matter what the circumstances are, he's an unreliable weasel that's had it out for SAMCRO for as long as I can remember." Tig answered him knowingly, making Jackson and few of the others nod their heads in agreement. "But you know what they say, Clay…keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. Havin' Darby nearby might not be a bad idea."

"Maybe if he _is _as concerned about Charming as he says, he'll help keep Alvarez out no matter what." Opie offered, though even he didn't look entirely convinced by his own words.

"I still say its bullshit." Bobby piped up again stubbornly. "Grade-A manure."

Clay sighed, seemingly thinking all of these points over, before shaking his head. "We'll discuss all the pros and cons, then we'll take a vote on it at Church." Clay finally said resolutely. "But for now, I think I could use one of those shots…"

Jackson nodded his head as Clay clapped him on the back and then headed in the direction of the bar. He could tell just by looking that his stepfather was definitely disturbed with the news they'd just received and he didn't blame him one bit. First the feds were coming back to town and now this? The _last _thing they needed was a war breaking out with the Mayans when they were going to have federal agents all over their asses – the blonde biker shook his head before running a hand through a hair.

Suddenly he found himself in need of a strong shot as well, and with one last heave he turned and headed back for the bar.

* * *

As soon as Ernest Darby and three of his Aryan brothers were back in the car and headed away from Billy Goat Gruff, he pulled out his cell phone and began scrolling through his contacts. Once he'd located the name he was looking for, he clicked on it to dial out and the pressed the phone to his ear – two rings later, the man he was calling picked up.

"How did it go?" He was immediately asked by his new business partner.

"Fine." Darby answered with a small smile, sharing a look with the man next to him. "They bought it alright." He added, feeling pretty triumphant at the moment – if all went well, SAMCRO would be in his pocket within the week. "Have you met with Alvarez yet?"

"Just got here." The man on the other end of the line answered.

"Good." Darby said in approval. "Got the money in case they're plannin' to back out?"

"Yeah." The man confirmed again. "Don't worry, I've got this under control." He continued in a firm tone. Darby wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince more with this determined statement, though, Darby or _himself._ The man, after all, had been rather unstable for quite some time.

"I'm trusting that you do." Darby replied, an unmistakable hint of warning lacing his words. "Remember, Alvarez _cannot _know that you work for me and this _cannot _land at our feet – there's been too many mistakes already. We can't afford any more."

"I said I've _got this_." His partner countered swiftly, a challenging edge to his voice. "I can do my job."

Darby paused for a long second, sharing another look with one of his comrades, before he spoke again. "Call me when you're finished." He instructed in an even tone before snapping the phone shut again and ending their conversation.

* * *

**Oh my GOSH! I swear these chapters just keep getting longer and longer, but I never mean for that to be the case! This story is just writing itself! What did everyone think? Any theories on what Darby is up to? **

**P.S. Writing arrogant Jax is pretty fun, no lie. Review!**


	8. A Trip to the Autoshop

**I've always been a very firm believer in "fate" and "everything happens for a reason" and in "signs" and such (I know, I sound like a hippie). **

**Now whenever I sit down to write for this story I usually listen to The White Buffalo/Johnny Cash/Black Keys so on and so forth – and I won't lie, I lost the motivation for this story for a while because I could see that I was losing readers, and that's just wildly discouraging. But I swear the universe has been throwing this story at me for the past few days and I **_**just**_** heard Johnny Cash's "Hurt" (one of the top songs I listen to whilst writing) on the radio…weird thing is, I've never **_**once **_**heard Johnny Cash on that station before. A sign that I should give this another go? **

**I think yes.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

* * *

_**A Trip to the Autoshop **_

By the time Monday afternoon rolled around, Dana must have watched and re-watched the meeting between SAMCRO and Ernest Darby – the leader of a nearby street gang that called themselves the 'Nords' – at least thirty times. The agent had spent all of last night and the majority of that morning analyzing every little detail about that damn meeting, from the body language of each individual man to the inflections on the words that were spoken, looking for anything useful and ensuring that absolutely _nothing _had been missed by herself or the team.

But as the redhead flipped through her notes now, eyes quickly scanning over her own slightly messy scrawl as she re-read her observations, she let out a frustrated huff before tossing the notepad down with a loud _SMACK_ – as much as it pained her to admit this, there was absolutely nothing here that could help their case. Clearly Ernest Darby couldn't be in league with Clay Morrow and the Sons of Anarchy; you'd have to be blind or an idiot _not_ to see that the SAMCRO president didn't trust Darby any further than he could throw him. And whatever this Marcus Alvarez guy had planned sounded like nothing more than a territory war started by a man with a serious grudge. There had been one brief mention of the missing agents but not one man in the room had shown any sort of response to it; even after the Nords had left there still had been no conversation amongst the Sons that was really of interest – some of the bikers had talked about Darby and their possible course of action, but the others had seemed far more interested in their drinks than discussing their affairs.

All in all, the infuriatingly-short meeting that she had thought would end up being so promising had, in actuality, turned out to be a complete and total bust. It was just as frustrating as it was disheartening, even more so after she'd had to call Peters and deliver the less-than-pleasing news (which had been an update that he had _not _been overjoyed to receive).

Dana heaved and crossed her arms, swiveling around in her chair so that she could look at the large corkboard propped up against the loveseat on the other side of the room. _Alright Bradshaw, time to go to plan B_, she thought to herself._ Think…where can you go from here? What do you know already? There has to be something __**somewhere**__…_

Her eyes scanned the row of mugshots before lingering on a picture of one of the younger members, a Mohawked biker sporting two tattoos on either side of his head. His name was Juan Carlos Ortiz, better known as "Juice". His efforts to impress and gain the attention of her co-worker Rachel McGee hadn't gone unnoticed the night before, nor had she missed Rachel's reaction to it – though the girl was obviously trying to play hard to get and appear aloof to Juice's face, there would always be a huge, goofy grin on her face whenever her back was to him that Dana could only accredit to puppy-love. She could tell that there was something brewing between Rachel and the Son named Juice, which if played right could wind up being very useful.

Dana turned to grab her notebook again and flipped the page, picking up her pen to make more notes as a new course of action started to form in her head. _1. Get friendlier with Rachel, _Dana scribbled down – Rachel was in with SAMCRO, and if _Dana _was in with _Rachel, _then inevitably that could lead the agent to SAMCRO as well.

She spun back around, notebook still in hand, and peered at the board again – this time her eyes landed on the eight-by-ten of Kip Epps, the prospective club member that had been so openly flirtatious with her when they had met. Dana stared at the photograph for another moment before pursing her lips, sighing, and jotting down another note. _2. Get closer to Half-Sack, _she wrote even though it left her with a bit of an uncomfortable feeling. Dana then began to tap the end of her pen on the notepad, staring at the board without really seeing it as the wheels in her head continued to turn. Finally, after a long few minutes, she decided that the only thing left to do was venture into _their _territory.

_3. Find a way to get into Teller-Morrow. _

Dana knew, plain and simple, that the time had come to scope out the area and see what the bikers got up to while they were in their natural habitat. And if there was any possible way to sneak a hidden camera or mic into the auto repair shop, then she knew she needed to find it and quickly. It would be a ballsy move on her part to try and bug SAMCRO's own stomping grounds before she even got into the clubhouse, but if she wanted to get to the bottom of all of this and find out what had happened to the missing FBI agents, then that was a risk she just might have to end up taking.

With that thought in mind, a slightly-less-frustrated Dana checked her watch before setting her notebook down on the desk again and getting to her feet, heading for the bathroom to take a shower and start getting ready for work. Her shift at The Goat would be starting soon, which meant it was time to put away the federal agent and turn back into her bartending alter-ego for the night.

_About three hours later…_

The early shift on Monday nights, Dana was quickly learning, was fairly uneventful at Billy Goat Gruff. A handful of the regulars were perched at the counter already (which came as no surprise), but other then that there was maybe only twenty or so other patrons spread sporadically around the bar; most of them had just gotten off of work and had come in to have a quick drink with co-workers or friends before continuing home for the evening.

As of today Dana was officially finished with training and now considered a full-fledged employee at The Goat, which meant she was no longer Rachel's shadow – her co-bartender today was a very slender, very pretty, but very ditzy blonde girl named Tammy. The two of them had only briefly worked together since Dana started working there so they hadn't become friendly with each other yet, but she seemed like a nice enough person; in a way Tammy sort of reminded Dana of a younger Bonnie-Jean.

Dana looked up as Dupree set a crate full of different liquors on the counter-top in front or her. "Put those up on the shelves for me, Red?"

"Sure." Dana said before setting down the glass she'd been cleaning and grabbing hold of the crate, placing it on the ground behind the counter. She watched him for a moment, eyeing him as he checked his cell phone, then started shelving the liquor bottles. "How'd the private party go last night?" She asked conversationally.

He looked up from his phone with a frown. "Huh?" He asked just before realization hit him. "Oh yeah – it was fine." Dupree informed her with a nod. "Thanks for being so understanding about that by the way." He added, flashing her a sincere-looking smile.

"Yeah, no problem." Dana told him with a nod. "Just let me know if I can pick up any extra shifts or help out somehow, you know, to make up for missing last night. Lord knows I can certainly use the money." She added as an afterthought – Dana didn't _really _need the money (since the bureau was paying for pretty much everything), she just wanted to make him believe she was dependable and trustworthy so that maybe _she'd _be the one bartending at SAMCRO's next 'private party'.

Dupree immediately had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Funny you should say that actually, because there is somethin' I need some help with." He said, wagging a finger at her before checking his phone again when it beeped. "And my _darling _ex-wife should be here to tell you all about it any second now." He told her, frowning at his phone in displeasure before turning his eyes over to the front door.

Just as he had predicted, the front door opened only seconds later to reveal the blonde, bubbly Bonnie-Jean Dupree. Her hair was done, as usual, and she was wearing brightly colored, tight-fitting clothes, also as usual – she immediately waved at Dana and the redhead waved back, giving her neighbor a friendly smile in return. But as Bonnie-Jean started making her way towards where Dana and Dupree were, however, Dana noticed that her neighbor hadn't come alone. Walking next to her with an air of authority surrounding her was the same fifty-something woman that Dana had glimpsed in Teller's driveway the day she'd arrived in Charming. At the time – when she hadn't known she was living next to Teller yet – she had thought the woman looked vaguely familiar but could not place how. Knowing was she did now, Dana had no idea how she _hadn't _realized that the woman had been Gemma Teller-Morrow.

Gemma Teller-Morrow's dark eyes were already trained on her as she and Bonnie-Jean approached, regarding her with a hint of curiosity. Dana felt herself tense a little bit, since she knew how much power this particular woman had in Charming, but still forced on a friendly smile as she walked up to the counter to greet them – she allowed Bonnie-Jean to hug her across the bar and watched over the woman's shoulder as Dupree and Gemma also shared a quick hug. When Bonnie-Jean pulled away, the blonde placed a hand on Gemma's back to grab her attention and motioned to Dana.

"This is the girl I was tellin' you about, Gemma. This is Dana, mine and Jax's new neighbor." She introduced with a bright smile. "Dana this is Jax's mother, Gemma Teller – the Queen of Charming." Bonnie-Jean grandly added.

Gemma waved Bonnie-Jean off good-naturedly for a moment, feigning modesty, before extending her hand towards Dana. "It's nice to meet you, Dana." She greeted smoothly.

Dana hurried to shake her hand – though there was a smile on Gemma's face, the look in her eyes was definitely one of scrutiny. It was wildly uncomfortable, but Dana managed not to fidget under the unsettling, calculating stare. "Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Teller." She said in response, her tone just as even as Gemma's.

Gemma stared her down for another moment before releasing her hand. "So, how are you enjoying Charming so far?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

This was a question she'd been asked about three dozen times by now and she answered Gemma the same way she'd answered everyone else. "I like it here just fine. Everyone's been really nice and very welcoming." Dana told her, thinking she was beginning to sound like a broken record.

"Yeah? My son included?" Gemma asked with a quirked eyebrow – Dana didn't miss the way Gemma gave her a once over. The woman must know of her son's reputation, leaving the redhead to assume that Gemma was probably wondering if Dana was on the verge of becoming another one of his conquests.

Dana contemplated how best to answer her. "Here or there." She finally answered vaguely, not lying to her but not divulging the full truth either. Dana immediately regretted her choice of words, however, when they seemed to pique Gemma's curiosity even further.

"So, Gemma…" Dupree piped up as he took a seat at the bar. "This weekend's the big one – everything for the fundraiser all set up?"

Gemma stared at Dana for another moment before turning her head to focus her attention on Dupree. "Oh yeah, everything's comin' along just fine." She answered with a nod. "No surprises so far this year, thank God. I swear – there've been times in the past where I wanted to _kill _myself to escape all the chaos." She explained with an exasperated shake of her head.

Dana furrowed her brows in confusion, looking between the three people standing in front of her in silent question – what was this fundraiser they were speaking of? Bonnie-Jean seemed to notice her confusion and quickly spoke up to explain the situation. "Gemma sets up a fundraiser every year, it's called 'Taste of Charming'. It's to raise money for the school district." The blonde quickly explained to her. "It's a pretty big deal – there's lots of food, maybe a little drinkin', some music…just about everyone in town comes out for it."

"Ahhh, I see." Dana said with a nod of understanding. Then she looked towards Dupree with raised eyebrows. "Does The Goat participate?"

"Oh yeah." Dupree answered immediately. "Gemma'd hang me from my ankles if we didn't." He told her honestly, earning himself a whack on the chest from Gemma.

"No, I'd hang you from your _balls_." She corrected him matter-of-factly before she, Bonnie-Jean, and Dupree shared a laugh (though his chuckle had a nervous edge to it). Dana pressed her lips together, inwardly questioning the sanity of Gemma Teller-Morrow just the slightest. "Anyway, that's actually why we're here." Gemma continued with a more business-like tone to her voice. "I need to know what all you've got goin' on at your booth and what you're contributing to the fundraiser."

"We'll serve up the bar-b-que and beer, as usual." Dupree told her, watching as Gemma pulled a small notepad from her purse and started scribbling down quick notes. "I was thinkin' we could do some kind of a raffle thing, too...have a drawing for a prize at the end of the afternoon or somethin'."

"That's a good idea." Gemma told him, looking pleased with Dupree's ideas. "How many people ya got workin' the booth?"

"Four, including me 'n Bonnie – I'm gonna talk Rachel into it and Dana here's already volunteered." He answered, jerking his head in the agent's direction.

After he said this both Gemma and Bonnie-Jean looked at her with raised eyebrows. Dana, in turn, turned to Dupree in surprise. "I did?" She asked uncertainly.

"You said ya wanted to help out, didn't you?" He shot at her with a shrug and a smirk – well, she couldn't argue with him there; she _had _said that only a few moments ago. "Don't worry, it's actually a pretty good deal. You'll get the night off for workin' the fundraiser and there's always a bitchin' party afterwards." He reassured her, even patting the top of her hand as though she were his pet. "And the rest of the employees will _love _you for working it." Dupree added. "They _hate_ workin' the fundraiser, though I'm not really sure why…"

"Okay then…" Dana responded with a slow nod, not seeing a way around it. "Fundraiser it is." She agreed with a small smile.

Bonnie-Jean immediately clapped her hands in excitement while Gemma eyed her in silence. Dana wasn't sure what the expression on her face meant but it was definitely making her feel even more uncomfortable. "Lucky you." Dupree commented to grab her attention again. "That's two Saturdays in a row you've managed to get off." He continued with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Don't go around thinkin' it's always gonna be that easy, Red – you have to suffer the weekend shifts, too." Dupree added sternly, wagging a finger at her.

Dana held her hands up in surrender and held back a chuckle of amusement. She remembered then that she was supposed to be working, not chatting away while her co-worker picked up her slack, and turned her head to check on Tammy – the blonde, who did actually look rather busy with a group that had just arrived, shot her a look that clearly said she wanted Dana to stop yapping and come help her.

"Speaking of suffering through shifts, I think I'll get back to work now, _sir_." She told Dupree, taking a moment to quickly salute her boss. "I'll be over there helping customers if ya need me." Dana paused before she left though and extended her hand towards Gemma again. "Gemma, it was nice to meet you."

Gemma courteously shook her hand again. "Likewise." She answered, a smirk appearing on her lips. "I'll see you at the fundraiser on Saturday."

"Yes, ma'am." Dana confirmed with a nod. "I'll see ya later, Bonnie." She said with a smile towards her neighbor – the blonde nodded, flashed her a wide smile, then returned her focus to Gemma as Dana hurried over to help Tammy.

"I see you met the 'Queen of Charming'." Tammy commented a bit dryly once Dana was close enough, her eyes momentarily turning away from the drink she was making to peer at Gemma with what could only be described as distaste – Dana noticed that Tammy had said this rather quietly though, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear her talking trash about the powerful woman. "How do ya feel?"

Dana glanced towards Gemma, who was focused on the conversation she was having Dupree and Bonnie-Jean now. "Like I'm an ant and she's a kid with a _very_ large magnifying glass." She admitted truthfully, shooting a look at Tammy.

The blonde smirked. "Sounds about right." She told her before returning to her work – Dana cast one more look in Gemma's direction, starting a bit when she saw that the woman was watching her again, before hurriedly turning to help Tammy finish up the drink order.

* * *

The rest of Monday and all of Tuesday went by without much of anything happening – there had been no other special appearances by anyone else of importance while working her shift on Monday and Tuesday ended up being a bust as well. In an attempt to become friendlier with Rachel and try to make some more progress, Dana had invited the woman out for lunch on Tuesday before their shifts at The Goat were slated to begin, but unfortunately the brunette had been feeling ill and had not only already called into work but also was forced to ask for a rain check – Dana had been disappointed but knew she'd have plenty of time to bond with the woman that weekend when they worked the fundraiser together, which Rachel had begrudgingly agreed to working after Dupree practically begged her.

As Wednesday afternoon rolled around, Dana decided to put Rachel on the back-burner for the time being and skipped ahead to the next part of her plan. It was her day off today and she simply could not let all of that free time go to waste by continuing to camp out in front of her computer and spy on the Sons – Joel and the team could keep an eye on the bikers; as far as _she _was concerned there seemed no better time to try and find an excuse to get into Teller-Morrow than now.

So around noon the agent left her house, eyes (as always) flicking towards Teller's house to see if he was home (he wasn't), and drove around until she found a quiet part of town that wasn't presently seeing very much traffic, foot or what-have-you.

Currently the agent was standing in front of her car in the middle of some unknown back-road with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes staring at the vehicle with a thoughtful expression – what could she do to her car that would necessitate a trip to Teller-Morrow but that _wouldn't _look as though it had been purposefully done? _What would Joel tell me to do?, _Dana wondered to herself as she started to circle her car – she scoffed at that thought almost immediately though, fairly certain he would have just told her to shoot the car and be done with it. But since she _wasn't_ trying to give off the impression of Tony Soprano and knew it'd be a horrible idea to ride into Teller-Morrow with bullet-holes in the hood of her car, she dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Finally she was struck with inspiration as her eyes dropped down to the tires. She could distinctly remember a time from her teenage years when she had been driving around with a friend of hers and the tire of his car had unexpectedly detached itself from the car and rolled off on its own. Apparently the lugnuts hadn't been screwed on tightly enough and driving had only served to loosen them up even more – Dana remembered watching the tire roll away while the car itself had come to an abrupt, cringe-inducing halt on the road. The front end of his car, as well as a lot of the parts underneath, had been trashed all to hell after scraping against the pavement and had required a lengthy, expensive trip to the autoshop.

_Perfect, _Dana decided, already heading for the trunk of the car to search for the lug wrench that she knew was tucked away there. It would be fast, easy, and hopefully believable…as long as nobody was around to see her taking the lugnuts off of her own tire. The agent checked around to make sure the coast was clear before heading back to the right front tire and making quick work of her task. It took a bit of effort to loosen the metal pieces at first, but eventually she had all of the lugnuts unscrewed just far enough so that they were still on the tire but just barely. When she finished Dana returned the lug wrench back to it place in the trunk and retook her seat behind the wheel.

_Here goes nothin'…_

Dana pressed her lips together, started the car again, then, after deciding to either go big or go home, slammed her foot on the accelerator. The car came to life and lurched forward, racing down the empty street for only a few short seconds before Dana's plan took effect – the car suddenly slanted downward to the right as her tire freed itself and went rolling down the street without the rest of the car. She cringed at the crunching sound of metal scraping against pavement and closed her eyes as the car skidded to a loud, unceremonious stop. Dana cracked an eye open as the car continued to run before throwing the car into reverse and pressing her foot on the accelerator again, just for good measure – the front bumper detached completely now, causing her to smile in satisfaction as she finally turned the car off and got out to inspect her handiwork.

"Sorry car…" Dana apologized, patting the hood of her Malibu affectionately and eying its mangled frame in the front. "We all have to make sacrifices sometimes…"

With the first part of her task completed, Dana moved back to the driver's side door and leaned in to collect her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she came to the one dedicated to Teller-Morrow – she'd found the number on the internet earlier that day, knowing very well she'd been needing it soon enough. Dana looked at the name for another moment, her heart suddenly beating a bit harder out of anticipation, then pressed send. One, two, a few rings later, there was an answer.

"Teller-Morrow." Came the hasty voice of one of the mechanics on the job.

"Yeah, hi. I'm calling because I was driving along just now and my right front tire suddenly decided to roll away without me." Dana answered, putting on a show and speaking with a panicky edge to her voice to try and make it appear as though she were a little shaken up by the whole ordeal. "The front end of my car is _all _torn to hell now…"

"Well, that sure sounds like a problem." The man on the other end of the line responded. Dana thought his voice sounded familiar and quickly deduced that it was probably one of the Sons that she'd already met, only she wasn't entirely sure which one. "How'd it come off?"

"Hell if I know." Dana lied. "God, this is a nightmare…you guys tow, right?" She asked, even though she already knew that they did. "'Cause this car isn't going _anywhere _on its own." Dana then told him with a dramatic sigh (for show).

"Oh yeah." He answered quickly. "Just tell me where you're at and someone'll come pick ya up."

Dana glanced around for a moment and pursed her lips. "Well, that's another problem…" She admitted slowly. "I have _no _idea where I am. I'm new to town and was just driving around and – "

"Dana?" The guy suddenly interrupted, now sounding pleasantly surprised.

The agent quirked an eyebrow. "Er, yes?"

"It's me, Sack – er, I mean, Kip!"

Dana smiled at once, thanking her lucky stars that Kip "Half-Sack" Epps had been the one to answer the phone today – so far, she couldn't have asked for this to turn out any better. "Oh, hey Kip!" She said, hoping she sounded as enthusiastic as he had. "Rachel told me you worked at Teller-Morrow but I completely forgot until now." She lied.

"Rachel told you, huh?" He responded – the suggestion in his tone made her immediately roll her eyes – _Typical. _"Been askin' about me or somethin'?"

"Maybe, maybe not…" Dana answered with a hint of flirtation, deciding to play along. "But as much as I'd _love _to stand here chit-chatting on the phone, it's kinda creepy out here all by myself – think you can come pick me up?"

"What?" He asked, sounding a bit confused for a moment. Then he seemed to remember that she had called because she actually needed help, not just to flirt with him over the phone. "Oh! Yeah! Of course! Name off a few road signs to give me a clue of where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay." Dana agreed, glancing around again – she eyed the road sign closest to her again, narrowing her eyes to read it better. "I'm near a street called Wabishaw and it looks like there's some kind of run-down strip center about thirty feet in front of me…" She told him, turning her head to take in more of her surroundings. "I think one of the shops is called 'Honey's Bakery', but it's kinda hard to read from here – any of that help?"

"Yep, I know exactly where you are." Half-Sack told her at once. "I'll just let the guys know I'm headin' out and then I'm on my way."

"Sounds good, I'll be…well, here." She said jokingly.

Half-Sack laughed for a second. "Try not to get yourself kidnapped." He suggested in a teasing tone. "See you in about fifteen."

Dana ended the call after that and then smiled victoriously, feeling mighty proud of herself. She was going to get into Teller-Morrow today _and _have the opportunity to get a little one on one time with Half-Sack. This day was turning out to be a much better day than she had anticipated.

Then, as she realized how big of a deal it _actually _was that she would soon venture into the lion's den for the very first time, nervous anticipation began to consume her and had Dana leaning back into her car to locate the pack of cigarettes that Teller had bought her on Sunday. The agent wasted no time lighting up one of them, inhaling the smoke and allowing it to calm the nerves starting to build up within. She considered calling Joel for a brief moment to warn him that she was about to go venturing into Teller-Morrow, but quickly decided against it – Joel's paranoia and over-protectiveness would only make her more edgy than she already was.

_Chill out, Bradshaw_, she reminded herself as she checked the clock on her cell phone and took note of the time. _You're just going in to scope the place out today…piece'a cake. _

Dana told herself this a few more times until she felt centered again and then went to sit on the hood of her car, taking another long drag from her cigarette as she settled in to await the arrival of Half-Sack.

It was another twenty minutes before the Teller-Morrow tow truck finally came into sight. Her heart thumped against her ribs in anticipation when she spotted the familiar face of Kip Epps and she raised her hand to wave once he was closer, earning herself an enthusiastic wave from him in return. She hopped down from the hood of her car as he parked the truck in front of her busted Malibu then went to greet him as he stepped out of the cab of the truck and started towards her.

"Damn – when you said 'torn all to hell' you _meant _torn all the hell..." He commented with a low whistle, his eyes taking in the mangled state of her car.

"Worse than you thought it was gonna be?" She asked with a frown, also eyeing her car.

Half-Sack nodded. "Guess it's a good thing it happened now and not while you were driving in from L.A." He said with a shrug. Then he quirked an eyebrow at her. "What the hell were ya doin' all the way out here anyway?"

Dana shrugged a shoulder, shooting him a slightly embarrassed smile. "Exploring?" She offered lamely.

Half-Sack snorted in amusement, shook his head, then started the process of hooking her car up to the tow truck. Dana stood off to the side so as to stay out of his way and watched him work – he really wasn't an unattractive guy, she decided, and he was clearly interested in her if the smiles he kept flashing her were anything to judge off of. As it was though, Kip "Half-Sack" Epps just wasn't the type of guy she normally went for; at that thought an image of Jackson Teller flashed through her mind without any warning or preamble, making her frown to herself in confusion for a moment until she dutifully shoved the blonde biker right back out of her head.

Once her car was connected to the tow truck Half-Sack took a look underneath to assess the damage, another low whistle escaping his lips. Apparently she'd managed to do a number on her car but thankfully he didn't seem suspicious about anything. "Damn, Red – what'd you do? Try to keep driving or something?" He joked as he straightened up and shot her a teasing smile.

Dana frowned and crossed her arms, putting on an act and staring at her car grumpily. "This is gonna cost me a pretty penny, isn't it?" She asked hesitantly.

Half-Sack's joking demeanor faded off when he saw the upset expression on her face. "Nah." He quickly said to reassure her. "I'm sure we'll be able to work somethin' out so that you're not paying an arm and a leg." He told her – she had to wonder if all the workers of Teller-Morrow tried to cut deals for everyone or if Half-Sack was only offering now because he wanted to get on her good side.

"Well, that makes me feel a _little _better…" She said, flashing him a large, grateful smile. He seemed pleased with her response and shot her a quick grin before jerking his head towards the front of the truck.

"C'mon, Dana – let's get back to the shop so I can take a better look at your car."

"Sounds like a plan." She said with a nod before grabbing her purse from the inside of her car and then joining him in the cab of the tow truck.

Once she was sitting next to Half-Sack in the truck he flashed her a wide smile before he started the engine and then started back towards Teller-Morrow.

* * *

Jackson heaved as he clicked his pre-pay shut, ending the call that he'd just received from Laroy Wayne – the gangster had just called to inform him that while their offer to sell the One-Niners even more merchandise was a 'kind one', they didn't have the funds or the necessity to justify placing another order with the Sons so soon after receiving their previous one. Jackson grumbled under his breath in annoyance and slipped his phone back into his pocket, making his way across the busy lot of Teller-Morrow and heading in the direction of the clubhouse to tell Clay the news.

"Jax!"

The call caught his attention and made him pause – he looked to the left and saw his mother, Gemma, waving him over from the office. Jackson changed his route and turned to walk over towards her, nodding his head upward one time with a questioning expression. "What's up?" He asked once he was standing in the doorway, momentarily forgetting his previous annoyance.

"Come inside." She ordered, moving to take a seat behind the desk. "And shut the door."

Jackson did as he was told and stepped fully into the office, making sure the door was shut securely behind him. When he turned back around to face his mother she had quirked an unhappy eyebrow at him – he immediately knew that he'd done something to piss her off and that he was probably about to get his ass chewed out, which quite honestly was the _last _thing he needed right then.

"You've been avoiding me." She accused plainly, not even with a hint of question behind her words.

"No I haven't." Jackson lied right through his teeth – Gemma had actually been trying to get him alone like this for a solid week, which was something he'd managed to successfully avoid until now. "I've just been busy. You know how crazy shit with the club is right now."

"Yeah, I know." Gemma said with a slow nod. Then she motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk. "Sit down."

"Ma, I don't have the time – " He started to protest.

"_Sit _your _ass _down." Gemma interrupted in a no-nonsense tone – Jackson heaved and then dropped ungracefully into the chair, shooting her a look that clearly said, _'Are you happy now?'_. "Listen, nobody knows better than me how much trouble this club has been seeing over the past few months." She began saying, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk as she stared him down. "And, also, nobody knows better than me how much trouble _you've _been having _personally _over the past few months…"

Goddamnit, he should have _known _this was where this conversation was headed.

"I know you've been struggling since Tara left and nobody blames you for that – she crushed you, broke your heart." Jackson scoffed dismissively even though what she was saying was true. "You can act like that all you want, but you _know _it's true." Gemma shot at him, reading him as though he were an open book. Jackson shot her a look so she tried a different approach, the expression on her face softening some as she reached over to place a hand on his. "It isn't easy losing someone you love – take it from me, getting walked out on is no picnic, and I imagine it's even harder to get walked out on _twice _by the same person."

Knowing that she had him pegged and that there was no point trying to convince her otherwise, Jackson turned his gaze elsewhere and slowly nodded his head. "Yeah…" He said in a noncommittal tone.

"But as much as it sucks – and it does, it's the fucking _pits _– that doesn't change the fact that you still have duties and responsibilities you've been neglecting." She continued with a serious tone. "And it needs to _stop_, Jackson."

Jackson looked to his mother sharply, hoping she wasn't trying to insinuate what he thought she was. "Duties and responsibilities that I've been _neglecting?_" He asked with a warning quirk of his eyebrow.

"Yes." Gemma confirmed, meeting his challenging stare with an unwavering one of her own. "And in case you aren't sure, I'm talking about Abel."

Prickling hot anger slid down his spine like lava, and had it been anyone else (more or less) saying that he was being a bad father to his son, there was no doubt that he would have beat them to a bloody pulp. Since it was his mother, though, he tried to reign in his anger. "So I'm a bad father, then?" He asked slowly, his voice almost a growl.

Gemma sighed and leaned back in her chair. "That's not what I'm saying, Jax." She told him a gentler tone, obviously recognizing his growing anger. "You are _not _a bad father. You just need to spend more time with Abel, that's all."

"In case you've forgotten, it's _your _husband that's been keeping me busy." He told her, reminding her of the fact that he'd only been away from Abel so much because he'd been helping Clay and the club.

"I haven't forgotten, thank you." Gemma snapped at him, forgoing trying to be gentle and apparently deciding to stop beating around the bush. "But apparently _you've _forgotten that _I'm _not an idiot – it isn't just the club that's been keeping you away from your son and we both know it. In fact," She continued, her arms crossing over her chest. "I'm pretty sure the whole _town_ knows seeing as you've fucked nearly half the women in Charming since Tara left."

Jackson sucked in a deep breath before heaving loudly, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment whilst trying valiantly to remind himself that this here was his mother and that he _shouldn't _throw every curse word he knew at her.

"Look…" Gemma continued. "If this is what you have to do to get her out of your system, fine – fuck every woman in Charming if you have to…I honestly don't care." She told him; it was a bold-faced lie, since his mother was notorious for attempting to scare off any woman that Jackson had ever shown any interest in. "But let me remind you of something – when Tara walked out it wasn't just _you _that she was leaving behind. _Abel _lost her, too."

That one hit home and made his anger come to an abrupt halt. Jackson dropped his hand to look at his mother, finally able to see past his own selfishness and self-loathing for the first time in months. Abel might still be young and probably wouldn't even remember Tara once he was older, but Gemma was right – the poor kid had now lost _two _mothers and he wasn't even a year old.

"He's suffering, too." Gemma continued, obviously realizing that she was getting through to him. "And it isn't me or Neeta that he needs…he needs _you_. His _father_."

Now that Jackson was thinking a little more clearly, he knew his mother was right and that she'd only said all of this out of concern. He instantly felt guilty for taking out his frustration on her (and guilt wasn't something he felt very often, mind you) and reached over to take her hand, flashing a quick, grateful smile. Gemma's mood shifted in an instant and she smiled back at him comfortingly, patting his hand before holding it tightly between her own.

"Thanks for knockin' some sense into me, Ma." Jackson said, leaning down to kiss the top of her hand. "I'll get my shit together. Promise."

"Good." Gemma said, patting his hand yet again before releasing it altogether. "So, now that that's out of the way…" She continued, leaning back in her chair and raising her eyebrows. "You'll be at the fundraiser this weekend, _right_?" She asked pointedly.

Jackson smirked as the air in the room lightened considerably. "Of course." He confirmed, knowing he wouldn't have been able to get out of it anyway…or at least, not without stirring up major shit with his mother. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Atta boy." Gemma said in approval, winking at him. "Now go on and get to work." She commanded, nodding her head towards the door.

Jackson stood to do just that but paused so he could lean over and kiss Gemma on the forehead. She smiled up at him warmly, a gesture he reciprocated, but neither said anything further as Jackson turned on his heel and started to make his way out of the office.

The blonde had just opened the door and was about to resume his mission of finding Clay when he realized that there was a new arrival at Teller-Morrow.

He came to a quick stop as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. At some point during his conversation with his mother Half-Sack had returned to the shop with Dana Prejean (literally) in tow. The two of them were standing by her car, which was rigged up to the tow truck, and seemed to be in the middle of a rather cozy-looking conversation.

For reasons not entirely known to Jackson, the sight of Prejean talking and flirting with Half-Sack made his spine stiffen with what he was fairly certain was jealousy.

"Jax? What's wrong?" Gemma's voice filtered in from behind him. She'd come to see what had caught his attention and followed his gaze towards the redhead. "Oh." She stated simply, drawing his attention. "Well, looks like Sack's got a hard-on for your neighbor."

Something akin to alarm shot through him as he realized that Gemma was already aware of Prejean and the fact that they lived next door to each other. "How do _you_ know she's my neighbor?" He asked almost suspiciously.

"I met her a few days ago at Dupree's." Gemma answered with a shrug. "Seems nice…definitely _pretty_…" She added this pointedly and gave him a look that Jackson knew all-too-well. "She'll be at the fundraiser this weekend."

"Yeah?" He said in response, his eyes shifting back to the woman in question. And since he could think of nothing else to say, he said, "Cool…"

Gemma immediately looked amused. "A word of advice?" She spoke up, patting him on the shoulder. "Fucking your neighbor can make things _very _complicated."

And that was all she said before she headed back into the office and left him to his business. Jackson shook his head, not at all surprised that his mother automatically assumed he wanted to get into Prejean's pants (which he was pretty sure he did, but that was beside the point…), then started in her and Half-Sack's direction. By now all thoughts of Laroy had more or less been forgotten – right now he was more concerned with whatever was going on between Dana Prejean and the prospect.

* * *

While Half-Sack continued to yammer away about car parts and threw all sorts of mechanical jargon at her as he explained the work that would more than likely be going in to the restoration of her car, Dana took a moment to quickly survey the busy auto-shop around her.

Though there weren't very many Sons loitering around at the moment (there were plenty of motorcycles present, though, so she assumed they were in the clubhouse), there were a number of random mechanics scattered all around the lot, some working while others were content to lounge around and kick back underneath California sun, as well as a variety of vehicles in nearly every direction she looked. She ignored the insistent buzzing of the cell phone in her purse, knowing that it was probably just Joel and that he'd realized she was at Teller-Morrow, and searched for any possibly nooks or crannies that she could slip a hidden camera or small microphone into – a few different spots jumped out at her, though since most of them were actually _in _the garage where the mechanics worked she wasn't entirely sure how she'd manage to plant any devices without drawing attention to herself.

" – and once all that's replaced we'll have to reattach that bumper." Half-Sack was explained when she finally tuned back into what he was telling her. "Gotta order a few parts though, so the repair may take a while." He glanced over at her and raised his eyebrows. "I hate to say it, but you're probably gonna have to get a rental for the next week or so."

"Damn…" Dana said with a fake frown. "I was hoping to avoid that." She said with a sigh. "Oh well, guess ya gotta do what ya gotta do...right?"

Half-Sack nodded and smiled, falling silent for a second or two. He seemed to be contemplating something, though what that something was Dana wasn't entirely sure. "So…how often do you work at the bar?" He asked, changing the topic of conversation rapidly.

Dana blinked at him in surprise. "Er, pretty often since we're shorthanded right now. Why?"

"Well…I was thinkin'…" When Half-Sack reached up to nervously rub the back of his neck she quickly deduced that he was on the verge of asking her out. "Maybe we could grab a drink the next time you're off work?"

Dana pressed her lips together, not particularly thrilled with the idea of going on a drink-date with Half-Sack but knowing it was something she'd need to do if she wanted to get any further in her investigation. "Sure." She said with a wide smile, nodding her head – a relieved look came over his expression in an instant as he returned her smile. "I'll actually be off on Saturday. I'm working Gemma's fundraiser, that 'Taste of Charming' thing. So I got the night off."

"That's perfect!" Half-Sack said excitedly. "We always have a _huge _party at the clubhouse after Gemma's fundraisers and people from The Goat are always welcome." He revealed, making her heart suddenly thud against her ribs – Dupree had said there would be a party but he'd failed to mention that it would be in the Sons of Anarchy _clubhouse_. "We can meet up there, get to know each other a little better." He said, this time with a suggestive smile.

"Alright." She said with a nod. "That sounds good."

Half-Sack nodded then scrambled to pull out his phone. "Let me get your number anyway, just in case." Dana gave him her personal number, which he quickly saved in his phone. "Excellent." He said happily, snapping his phone shut and slipping it back into his pocket. "Now why don't you hang on for a second while I go grab my cut – I'll run you over to the rental place real quick."

Before Dana could get in a word edgewise Half-Sack was hurrying away from her looking like a man on a mission. She frowned deeply, fairly certain he meant to take her by way of _motorcycle_, and turned her head to stare at the row of bikes apprehensively – the last time she'd been on the back of a bike was when she'd been a child, having promised herself that she would never get on a motorcycle again after her parents split. She'd stuck true to the promise for twenty years and hadn't intended to break that promise anytime soon, but now she wasn't sure she'd be able to avoid doing so today.

"Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in."

Dana knew that voice all too well – she turned to face Teller, who was looking at her with his ever-present smirk in place. "Teller…I should have known you'd be here." She said in greeting, mentally smacking herself for forgetting that Teller would probably be at the auto-shop.

"How do I know that you didn't?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. "Are you stalking me, Prejean?"

"You wish." She shot at him before she could stop herself – Dana pressed her lips together tightly as his eyebrows shot up in what seemed like amusement, hoping that would keep any other argumentative words from slipping out.

To her surprise Teller didn't say anything rude in return, merely shifted his focus to her beat up car. "Damn, what'd you do?" He asked, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"Nothing, thank you very much." Dana stated defensively, lying right through her teeth. "My tire just…decided to take a little trip of its own, that's all." She finished with a matter-of-fact nod.

Teller looked to her again, clearly finding the entire situation to be a bit funny – as much as she hated to admit it, the amusement behind his usually demeaning smirk and the glint in his bright blue eyes made him look even more attractive than he already was. She cursed him internally for making her time here even harder than it needed to be by being such an attractive, arrogant bastard.

Half-Sack returned then with his leather cut on and covering his Teller-Morrow work shirt underneath. He faltered a bit when he saw that Dana was talking to Teller but chose not to comment on it, raising his eyebrows at her instead. "Ready to go?"

"Go where?" Teller asked before she could answer.

"The rental-car place." Half-Sack answered. "She's gonna need a ride over there, seeing as her's ride's busted up and everything."

As Teller glanced back and forth between her and Half-Sack she couldn't help but wonder what was going through his head – had he noticed Half-Sack's interest as well? And did he think that she was interested in the prospect in return? "You go on and get started with her car." Teller suddenly instructed with a jerk of his head, taking her completely by surprise. "I'll take her."

Half-Sack immediately looked disappointed. "It's no big deal – " He started to say.

"_I said_ – " Teller interrupted pointedly. "I'll take her."

Dana didn't dare say a word as Half-Sack resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be the one taking her to get a rental car and nodded in understanding. "C'mon, Prejean." Teller said before turning on his heel to leave. The younger biker flashed one last smile at her, looking dejected, then watched forlornly as she trailed after the Vice President. "See you on Saturday." She called back to him, still wanting to keep that connection open in spite of Teller's actions – Half-Sack seemed a little more encouraged then and went back to his business as Dana hurried to catch up with Teller.

"He was just trying to help, you know." She told him once she'd fallen into step with him.

"I know." Teller said simply, sparing her a brief glance.

As he led her towards his bike, a knot began to form in Dana's stomach – why the motorcycle? Why couldn't they have just taken the tow truck or maybe even borrowed someone's car? Didn't Teller have a truck of his own that they could have driven instead of having to take this loud, metal beast? She hadn't realized that they'd reached the bike and that she was simply standing there and staring at it like it might come to life and eat her until Teller snapped his fingers in front of her face. Dana jumped and then frowned at him disapprovingly.

"Never been on a bike before?" He asked with a hint of smugness. He seemed to be enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"Actually I have." She answered, catching him a little by surprise. "It's just…been a _really _long time." She continued. "You know, I can just call a cab or something. It's no big deal." The agent offered, whimping out and trying to find a way out of accepting a ride from Jackson Teller.

"No cabs here, Prejean." Teller told her as he swung a leg over the bike and got settled – he grabbed his helmet and extended it in her direction instead of placing it on his own head. "This ain't L.A., remember?" When she hesitated to take the helmet, he wiggled it at her almost tauntingly. "Come on, cupcake. I won't bite…" Then he smirked again. "…not _hard _anyway…"

Dana sucked in a deep breath before finally taking his helmet and slowly putting it on. The look that entered his eyes as he watched her fasten the strap under her chin was hard to decipher but she wasn't overly concerned about that at the moment – she was far more bothered by the fact that she was about to break her own promise to herself and get on the back of Jackson Teller's Harley…and that she was going to be _entirely _too close to him for her comfort.

"Shit or get off the pot, Prejean." Teller piped up as he turned on the ignition and had his Harley roaring to life. "Ain't got all day."

Dana finally stepped up to the bike and slowly got on behind the blonde biker, her heart pounding a mile a minute as she got settled on the rumbling motorcycle. She hesitated on the seat, knowing from experience that the ride would be safer for her if she held onto Teller but feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of sitting any closer. When he cast a look at her over his shoulder though – one that clearly told her that it'd be wise for her to grab hold of him – she very slowly and very cautiously scooted a little bit closer and placed her hands on his waist. Then they were tearing off out of the parking lot of Teller-Morrow, neither of them aware of the fact that they were being watched by a jealous Half-Sack and an unsurprised Gemma…

It was all so familiar. The rush of the wind in her hair and ears, the vibrations of the bike that resonated throughout her entire body, the feel of the sun on her skin as they tore through the streets of Charming…she'd vowed never to get on the back of another bike, but now that she was on one again she was quickly remembering how much she used to enjoy going on rides with her father when she was still a child. All sorts of memories came rushing back to her as Dana closed her eyes and tilted her head back, truly taking in the ride.

Had things turned out differently in her life, would something like this be an everyday occurrence? If her parents had never split would she still be in Montclair, still be apart of the club? Would she have become someone's Old Lady by now and have the opportunity to ride on the back of a bike whenever she wanted to? These were scenarios that Dana had wondered about on occasion but had never allowed herself to dwell on for very long, and now was no different. She let the questions circle around in her head until they became too disturbing to think about any longer then pushed them away resiliently, shoving them back to the recesses of her mind.

Instead she chose to focus on something else to occupy her thoughts…like how Teller's long hair was whipping around wildly thanks to his lack of helmet and tickling her face as they rode – whatever shampoo he used had a very masculine scent and was rather pleasing to the nose. She also noted how firm his body felt underneath her hands – no surprise there seeing as she'd already seen him without a shirt on and knew how toned he was – and how warm he felt now that he was sitting so close to her. Dana was all too aware of the way her legs were pressing against his, how she'd only need to scoot a mere few inches closer to be flush against his back, how nice it would feel to have that body of his pressed against hers…Dana shook her head, feeling rather warm and knowing damn well it had nothing to do with the sun overhead, then closed her mind to her lustful thoughts before they could progress any further.

Thankfully they reached the rental place about five minutes later and she'd never been so happy to part ways with someone – she practically flew off of Teller's bike, needing to get away from him and now in desperate need of a cold shower.

"Thank you for the ride." She said quickly, unlatching his helmet and practically shoving it into his unsuspecting hands. "I can take it from here."

Teller smirked and nodded in understanding, placing the helmet on his own head. "Alright then..." He said slowly – she nodded jerkily and turned to head for the door, wanting more space between the two of them. "See ya around." He called after her. "And Prejean?"

She paused at the door against her better judgment and glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

He smirked widely. "You look good in my helmet." He complimented. Then, after revving his engine a few times, he shot her a wink and was tearing off down the street, leaving her to stare after him in surprise.

* * *

**Twenty pages for this chapter? I mean…really? This is getting out of hand…**

**Dana goes to the Clubhouse in the next chapter!**


	9. Taste of Charming

**I want to thank EVERYONE for their awesome words of encouragement. You guys really, truly are the best. **

**There will be more Dana/SAMCRO interaction in this chapter, but I sort of kind of maybe lied a little bit (but not on purpose) about her getting into the clubhouse in this one…I **_**was**_** going to have her go there in this chapter but then the fundraiser portion ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated. And since I didn't want to half-ass the first clubhouse scene, I decided to save it for the next chapter. Sorry, but it's better this way!**

**Oh and take note – I totally got the fundraiser thing wrong (as in Gemma has it for the school district, not for the small businesses in town) so everything has been altered accordingly, just so everyone is on the same page.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I could say I had something to do with Sons of Anarchy, but I don't. So don't sue, just enjoy. **

* * *

"_**Taste of Charming"**_

Bonnie-Jean certainly hadn't been exaggerating when she said that the "Taste of Charming" fundraiser was a big deal. The event was being held at the local high school this year – they were trying to raise money for the school's athletic program – and the place was already bustling with people scurrying about and finishing up last minute tasks by the time Dana arrived. The agent wove her way through the crowd until she finally caught sight of the Billy Goat Gruff table on the right side of the courtyard; hanging from the table was a large banner with the name of the bar on it and a slogan that read, _"Harry Dupree's World Famous BBQ Sandwiches!"._

"Dana!" Rachel called out, waving both of her hands as soon as she spotted the redhead – there was already a beer in her left hand. "Over here!"

Dana waved and headed that way, immediately snorting to herself when she caught sight of Dupree – he was wearing a large, white chef's hat and an apron that read "_Will Cook For __**SEX**_" in bright red letters (not very appropriate in this particular setting), which made for a pretty amusing sight. He was manning a bar-b-que pit adjacent from their table, drinking a beer, and singing along with the AC/DC song blaring from a nearby portable stereo.

As she neared her co-workers, Dana took a quick moment to shift her gaze towards the booth next to theirs – Gemma's booth. There was a group of women moving back and forth between a few tables as they worked to prepare the plates of food they'd be distributing, and one of those women was Gemma Teller-Morrow. Dana offered a quick, polite wave when their eyes met – Gemma only nodded her head with a small, close-lipped smile before turning to continue what she was doing.

"Afternoon, guys." Dana said in greeting, smiling brightly at Rachel and Dupree as she finally reached The Goat's booth, rounded the table, and dropped her purse in a chair next to Rachel's.

"Why, good afternoon, Red!" Dupree said enthusiastically, momentarily setting the tongs in his hand down so that he could reach into a cooler and grab a beer. "Perfect timing too, it's beer-o'clock!" He announced grandly. "Sorry it's the canned shit – Chief Unser bitches at us every time we try to sneak in glass bottles." He explained with a shrug before tossing the can in her direction.

Dana caught the can easily, laughing a bit. "Got it…thanks." She said before popping the top and taking a sip. The beer was definitely cheap, but the fact that it was warmer than usual outside today made the beer taste a hell of a lot better than it should have. Dana smacked her lips in approval then looked to Rachel as the brunette appeared at her side and dropped an arm around her shoulders.

"Woooooow." She said with raised eyebrows, looking Dana up and down over the top of her sunglasses – since it was so hot out today, the agent had chosen to wear a pair of shorts and a loose, flowy tanktop. "I've never seen you show so much skin." Rachel added, wagging her eyebrows. "Not a big fan of the sun, huh?"

While Rachel snickered at her own joke, Dana shot her an unimpressed look. "Hey, I'm a redhead – I burn easy." She said in her own defense.

"Well thank god you're putting your skin on the line and workin' this thing today." Rachel shot back in obvious relief. "I usually get stuck with that sour-puss Ross as my partner." She paused to take a sip of her drink before making a thoughtful noise. "One year I had to work with _just_ Bonnie-Jean and Dupree, and God was _that _a nightmare – I had to listen to the two of 'em bitch and bitch and _bitch _at each other for hours on end. It was torture!"

"Hey," Dupree interjected with a threatening point of his spatula. "I don't wanna hear no trash talkin' from you, McGee." He stated pointedly, though the glint in his eye let both Dana and Rachel know that he was only joking. "This is supposed to be a _fun _day."

"I'll talk as much trash as I want." Rachel told him snootily, finally dropping her arm from around Dana's shoulders. "After all the favors I've had to do for you and the guys the past few weeks, I think I've earned the right – and I fully expect to be compensated for my hard work too, _Dupree._"

The statement certainly caught Dana's interest, but she skillfully hid it from her companions. Instead she just smirked in amusement as Dupree turned back to the bar-b-que pit, mockingly impersonating Rachel in a high-pitched voice all the while – Rachel whacked him on the back of his head and pointed at him threateningly. "Well, this should be an interesting day…" Dana mused aloud before taking a long gulp of beer.

The next ten minutes were dedicated to plating food, organizing the table, and preparing the drinks that they were going to be selling. Every now and again Dana would feel eyes on her back as she worked – eyes that she was certain belonged to the 'Queen of Charming' – but pretended as though she didn't notice and managed to ignore the unnerving feeling of being watched by striking up casual conversation with Rachel. Finally, just after noon, as townspeople began to show up and filter onto the school grounds, they were joined by Bonnie-Jean.

"Hey girls!" She said in greeting, flashing them a bright smile.

"Hi, Bonnie." Dana and Rachel said, nearly in unison.

Dupree immediately turned and let out an exasperated sigh as he caught sight of his ex-wife. "_Finally._" He heaved in irritation, placing his hands on his hips. "You and those buns were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago." He reminded her in a displeased tone – Dana wondered if Dupree was referring to Bonnie-Jean's rear end for a moment, but then snickered to herself when she realized her neighbor was carrying multiple packages of hamburger buns in her hands. "How are we supposed to give out bar-b-que sandwiches if we don't have _buns_?"

"Well, _excuse me_ – " Bonnie-Jean said huffily as she joined them behind the table.

"And three, two, one..." Rachel muttered to Dana, finishing off her beer before crossing her arms and turning her eyes back to the couple to watch the drama unfold.

" – but _you _try goin' to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon!" Bonnie-Jean continued, now bickering at her ex-husband just as Rachel had predicted – Dana shot the brunette an impressed look, while Rachel just nodded matter-of-factly. "Do you know how many people I had to fight through just to find a _parking_ spot, let alone get my hands on this many buns?"

Dupree ignored what his ex-wife said and grabbed for one of the packages in her hands, immediately letting out a growl of annoyance after he read the label. "I said_ seedless_, Bonnie – _seedless!_"

It was everything in her not to laugh when Bonnie-Jean whacked Dupree across the head with the packages of buns in her right hand – Dana brought a hand up to cover her mouth and stifle any traitorous laughter that might escape before sharing a sideways look with Rachel; she looked like she was on the verge of dissolving into laughter, too.

While the former couple started to nag away at each other, Rachel shook her head and smirked at Dana. "I blame all the pent-up sexual frustration." She said in a low voice so the arguing duo wouldn't overhear. "They fight all the time because they miss bangin' each other but don't wanna admit it."

"You think?" Dana asked, turning another look on Bonnie-Jean and Dupree. To anyone else it would look like the two absolutely loathed the very sight of each other…but then again she supposed the same could have somewhat been said for her and Teller, and that certainly hadn't stopped _her _mind from betraying her and filling with lustful thoughts or vivid fantasies that she could not – and _would_ not – act upon. "Huh...maybe you're right…" She conceded with a nod of her head.

"I _know _I'm right." Rachel corrected her, snorting to herself when Bonnie-Jean nearly whacked Dupree with the hamburger buns again. "Stubborn idiots…" She said before smiling brightly and going to greet a couple that had just walked up to the table. "Afternoon! What can I do for ya?"

The next few hours passed by in what seemed like the blink of an eye – with the fundraiser in full swing and bustling with people, the foot traffic around the booth increased significantly and had the four of them so preoccupied that they didn't even realize how much time had gone by until there was finally a lull between customers around two o'clock. But even though this fundraiser was keeping her much busier than she'd anticipated, and despite it being scorching hot outside, Dana couldn't say she was having a bad time. She and Rachel worked well together and were starting to become more comfortable with each other, which was _extremely_ good for her investigation. And, after drinking a few more beers, Dupree and Bonnie-Jean's behavior towards each other was actually starting to become a source of amusement.

"Are they like this when Bonnie's workin' at the bar too?" Dana eventually asked Rachel after Bonnie-Jean purposefully stomped on Dupree's foot on her way to the cooler.

"Worse – they're not so good with being near each other in confined spaces." Rachel told her matter-of-factly. She then rolled her eyes when Dupree lost his cool for a moment and swatted his ex-wife _hard_ on the butt with the flat of his spatula, making her squeak with pain. "God, we can't take them _anywhere_." Rachel muttered.

Dana smirked and shook her head before starting in the direction of the cooler. "Beer?" She asked the brunette.

"You know it!" Rachel said before turning to serve some kids that had just come running up to their booth.

As Dana reached the cooler, she leaned over and opened it to fish out two beers. As she straightened up, however, she was suddenly hit – yet again – with the distinct feeling of being watched. She frowned and closed the cooler with her foot, looking towards Gemma's booth and fully expecting it to be _her _dark eyes trained on her again. Gemma, however, was in the middle of a conversation with Chief Unser – whom Dana had very briefly met about an hour ago – and paying absolutely no attention to her.

Dana looked around a bit more, the odd feeling never going away, until her eyes finally passed over a head of long, blonde hair. She did a double take and then pressed her lips together as her eyes landed on a familiar figure – Teller. Though she had (unconsciously) been keeping an eye out for him since arriving, this was the first time she'd spotted him (or any of the Sons) all day. He was standing on the other side of the courtyard with his club brother Opie Winston, a shorter, brown-haired woman, and two young children, and at that moment in time he was looking directly at _her_ – as soon as she met his gaze a wide smirk spread across his features and he nodded his head to her once, as if silently saying hello.

Now if Dana said she _hadn't _been avoiding Jackson Teller like the plague since their little motorcycle adventure on Wednesday, she'd be lying right through her teeth – she hadn't dared to go outside if he was working on his bike, she no longer smoked in the front yard, choosing to smoke her cigarettes in the backyard in hopes of avoiding anymore driveway run-ins, she even was mindful of her surroundings while out and about in town, just so he wouldn't be able to surprise her unexpectedly. She felt childish and silly, yes, because she was a grown-ass woman acting like an embarrassed school girl, but the lust that she had felt for him while they were riding on his motorcycle together was simply too confusing and too troubling for her to want to deal with it right now – there were _much _more important things to worry about, like the two missing FBI agents, for example. She knew she'd have to face him again sooner or later, but right now, avoiding the man felt like a very good idea for her sanity and her case.

Still…she supposed it would be downright rude if she were to _completely _ignore him. Dana waved at him quickly, returning his acknowledgement with a polite smile, then averted her gaze from his as she went to rejoin Rachel.

"Ahhh…thank you." Rachel said in appreciation as she accepted her beer. "Nothin' better than cheap beer on a hot day."

"Amen to that." Dana agreed, clinking her can against Rachel's before taking a long sip.

"So…" Rachel started after she'd swallowed her gulp of beer. "You're comin' to the clubhouse tonight, _right_?" She asked, wagging her eyebrows.

Dana slowly nodded her head. "That's the plan." She answered before shrugging a shoulder. "I told Half-Sack I'd come so we could grab a drink together."

Rachel almost immediately shot her an incredulous look and swatted her on the shoulder. "What?!" She asked in surprise, holding her hands up in disbelief. "You and _Half-Sack_?" Rachel hissed next, looking both surprised and a little offended that Dana hadn't entrusted her with such information beforehand. "Is _he_ the mystery man you've been texting with the past few days?"

Dana, who had indeed had a few short, sporadic text-message conversations with Half-Sack over the last few days, cringed for a moment before shrugging at her apologetically. "Surprise?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head before poking Dana in the shoulder. "You and I are _seriously_ gonna have to work on our communication, because _this _is unacceptable." She stated, leaving no room for argument. Then she frowned at Dana, still looking completely gob-smacked. "Half-Sack? Really?"

"Why not?" Dana countered with a shrug. "He's cute and he seems nice enough."

The brunette thought about it for a second before shrugging a shoulder. "Well, true…compared to the other guys he's practically an angel." She conceded. "Still…" She continued, turning a calculating look on Dana. "I'm a bit surprised – I would have thought that Jax would be more your type. Sack seems a little too…I don't know, _wimpy _for you."

Dana immediately scoffed, shooting her co-worker a look out of the corner of her eye. "Don't be ridiculous." She said firmly before taking a long drink from her beer.

Rachel opened her mouth to say something more on the matter, but a new voice suddenly sounded in the air behind them and beat her to the punch.

"Uh, well, I say _hellooo_ there, ladies."

The oddly accented but still somehow familiar voice was a bit unexpected and caught them both by surprise. Dana and Rachel shared a curious look, forgetting their conversation about Teller for the moment, and turned to see who had addressed them. While Rachel cracked a wide grin as soon as she caught sight of the newcomer, Dana's eyes immediately went wide with amused shock – standing in front of her and doing a spectacularly horrible job of impersonating Elvis Presley was the portly, curly-haired Son himself, Bobby Munson.

"How you lovely ladies doin' today?" He continued, speaking in the voice of The King and looking completely ridiculous in his sparkly outfit and coiffed wig.

"Ho-lee shit." Dana said with a surprised laugh. She had expected that she would meet the man called 'Bobby Elvis' at one point or another, but she _hadn't _expected for him to be dressed in such a flamboyant outfit when it happened. "So the rumors _are_ true. The King is alive after all and hiding out in Charming, California." Rachel immediately started laughing while Dana shook her head in mock-amazement. "This town just keeps getting better and better."

Bobby Elvis laughed a bit, unsurprisingly using the same laugh as Elvis Presley. "Try not to shout it too loud, darlin'. I'm tryin' to keep a low profile, ya see." He joked before sauntering over and extending a hand towards her – she placed her hand in his, unsure if she should feel amused or creeped out when he leaned down to press a dramatic kiss to the top of it. "And just who might _you _be, pretty lady?" He asked, still impersonating the idol he was dressed as.

"I'm Dana." She introduced herself with a short laugh.

"And she's _waaaaaay _too good for you, Bob." Rachel threw at the older biker only half-jokingly. "So hands off." She added, looking like a stern parent as she pointed a threatening finger at him.

Dana, knowing fully well that the bikers _she'd _grown up with would have never tolerated being talked to in such a way, shot a semi-cautious look towards Bobby Elvis and waited for his reaction. He didn't seem angered by Rachel's words, though – instead he chuckled a bit and released Dana's hand so that he could hold his own up in defense. Dana couldn't help but feel a little awestruck and think that the interaction was an obvious testament to the level of respect the Sons and Rachel McGee seemed to operate on.

"This dirty old man is Bobby Munson, by the way." Rachel spoke up with a wave of her hand. "But pretty much everyone calls him Bobby Elvis – I think you can see why."

Dana nodded then laughed again when the fat biker struck a pose that surely would have made The King himself roll over in his grave. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you." Dana told him.

"And you too, little lady." Bobby said in return, bowing a little with a dramatic swoosh of his white, sparkly, Elvis cape.

The three of them might have talked a little more but Bobby's attention was quickly caught when Gemma suddenly called out to him from the booth next door. "Bobby! Get your _ass_ over here!" She hissed at him furiously, trying to keep her voice low so that she wouldn't be overheard by the crowd. He seemed to know better than to keep the Queen of Charming waiting, too; without hesitation he excused himself and hurried towards Gemma, already looking shamefaced. "You were supposed to be here _two hours ago _– " They heard Gemma start to chastise him before they walked out of hearing range.

"Oops." Rachel said with a cringe. "Someone's in trouble."

Dana nodded, watching as Gemma practically dragged Bobby Elvis away by his ear, then shook her head to herself. Her eyes then shifted back over to where Teller had just been to see if he was still watching her, but Dana frowned when she realized she could no longer see him – she glanced around, searching for his tell-tale blonde hair, but eventually gave up when she couldn't locate him in the crowd of people.

* * *

Jackson smirked to himself a bit, watching as Prejean's eyes searched around for a moment, until she finally frowned in resignation and turned to serve an elderly couple that had just walked up to the booth – he and Opie had claimed a bench off to the side after Opie's wife, Donna, had taken the kids to go play on the bouncy house, and the new spot allowed him to still see her but not vice versa.

Though he was pretty sure Prejean had been looking for _him_ just now, he tried not to feel too triumphant about it yet. Jackson was no idiot – he'd seen the way she'd acted and noticed her flushed cheeks after their ride. But even though he was _convinced_ she was attracted to him, it seemed she was hell-bent on trying _not _to show or act on it. That much had been proven by the fact that she'd made herself impressively scarce since Wednesday afternoon – usually they at least saw each other in their driveways here or there, but not these past few days. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was avoiding him…and since that just wouldn't do, he had every intention of confronting her about it whenever the time was right.

"Clay and the others should be here any minute now." Jackson idly commented now that he and Opie had a little privacy – Clay, Tig, and Piney had gone to meet with Ernest Darby, whom after _much _debate the club had decided to team up with for the time being. This new alliance between the Sons and the Nords wasn't something Jackson was particularly happy about, but in the end they had all thought it smarter to have Darby close by so they could keep an eye on him.

Opie just grunted in response, a faraway look in his eyes as he blankly stared ahead.

Jackson eyed his friend for a moment before nudging him. "What's up, man?" He finally had to ask. Opie had seemed like he was on an entirely different planet all afternoon and it was really starting to worry him. "You've been actin' weird since we got here…is somethin' wrong with you 'n Donna or somethin'?"

Opie frowned over at him sharply. "No, not at all." He said in a firm voice, effectively squashing the notion. "Things between me 'n Donna are good…real good." He went on to reassure Jackson.

"Well, that's…good." The blonde said in response, echoing his friend's words. He could still tell that there was something on Opie's mind, though, and he wanted to know what it was. "Ope…" Jackson said slowly, pryingly, trying to let him know that he wasn't going to drop the subject until the burly biker spoke his mind.

Opie seemed to understand what Jackson was trying to convey to him – he let out a heavy sigh before turning his eyes elsewhere, watching absentmindedly as some kids chased after some poor schmuck currently dressed as Charming High's school mascot. "Bein' back at this fundraiser makes me think of all the shit that went down at this thing last year." Opie finally admitted, making Jackson instantly frown. "Makes me think of Hobart."

Jackson shook his head, not bothering to hide his distaste. "Fucking _Kyle_…" He spat out, able to instantly and vividly remember every detail of what had happened at the clubhouse that night. He didn't know if Hobart had survived the burning or not, but he really couldn't care less – as far as _he_ was concerned the prick had gotten what he deserved. And this was something that he didn't shy away from saying. "Don't waste your time thinkin' about that piece'a shit. He got what he deserved."

"I know that." Opie countered swiftly, turning his gaze back to Jackson's. "Believe me, nobody needed that to happen more than me." He said in a serious tone, leaving absolutely no room for argument on the subject. Not that Jackson would have tried to prove him wrong – it was Hobart's fault that Opie had gone to jail; had the roles been switched and it had been _Jackson _in Opie's shoes, he would have felt just as justified. "Still…that was some crazy shit."

Jackson nodded his agreement and leaned against the picnic table behind him as silence fell between them again. Within moments his eyes had once again drifted over to the Billy Goat Gruff booth and locked onto the pretty redhead working there, all thoughts of Kyle Hobart almost instantly vanishing from his mind. Prejean and Rachel had just finished helping some customers and were laughing about something as they both grabbed for their drinks – the crowd separating Jackson from Dana Prejean unexpectedly parted in the next moment, giving him a much better view of her. Jackson gave her body an appreciative once over, admiring the amount of pale skin and cleavage currently on display thanks to her choice of outfit. Even from where he was sitting that skin looked soft and supple and he couldn't help but wonder how good that skin would feel underneath his hands, maybe even underneath his lips…

"Jax, there's something I need to tell you." Opie's voice suddenly interrupted Jackson's thoughts.

Jackson blinked and the crowd filled in the space between him and Prejean again, nearly blocking her from his line of sight completely. "Huh?" He asked distractedly, having to clear his throat for a second as he looked back to his friend.

"I said I need to talk to you about something." Opie repeated, a very serious expression on his bearded face. "I should've come to you about this sooner but I wasn't sure how you'd react." He continued, now grabbing Jackson's full attention and making him frown in concern – what the hell was Opie going on about? "It's…well, it's about Hobart."

Jackson frowned deeper – they were back to this shithead again? "What about him?"

"He survived all that shit you know." Opie revealed, making Jackson's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"How do you know?" He asked, a bit confused – the last _he'd_ seen of Hobart, the guy had been half dead with third degree burns on his back and lying in the road in front of a hospital.

Opie was silent for a long moment before he shifted in his seat and let out a long heave. "He showed up at the clubhouse around the holidays." He finally revealed, launching into a story that Jackson had never expected to hear. "Everyone else was inside partyin', so nobody knew he'd even shown up. I was outside grabbin' something from my bike though…" He paused for a second, looking lost in his own thoughts. "I didn't even realize he was there at first, he just came stumblin' up outta nowhere…ya shoulda seen him, Jax. He was real skinny and dirty..._really _fucked up, too. I could barely understand half the shit he was saying to me."

Jackson could hardly believe what he was hearing – Kyle Hobart, the ex-member that he had thought was as good as dead, had actually come back to the clubhouse after everything that had happened? He couldn't help but think the guy was a fucking moron. "What happened?" He asked steadily, wanting to know what the idiot had been thinking by daring to show his face in Charming again.

"Nothin' really." Opie told him truthfully. "He yelled a lot, kicked some shit around, threw a liquor bottle at the shop…nothin' too serious." The bearded biker sighed and then shook his head. "Apparently his life is 'all fucked up now' and he blames the club for it, you and me specifically."

Jackson snorted. "He doesn't have anyone to blame but his own damn self." He corrected matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I know…"

Jackson watched Opie for a second before asking his next question. "So why didn't you say anything before now?" He asked, wanting to know what had made Opie keep this information to himself for so long.

Opie just shrugged. "Pity, I guess? Maybe mercy?" He offered, sounding a little unsure of his own reason for keeping quiet. "I knew if I told anyone in the club that he'd be as good as dead." He shrugged again. "I guess I just figured he'd put himself and his family through enough shit without gettin' his ass shot full of bullets on top of everything else."

Jackson shook his head, a bit baffled by everything he'd heard. Before he had the chance to say anything more about it, though, he finally spotted a familiar, grey-haired man making his way through the crowd. "Here comes Clay." Jackson pointed out to Opie – Opie immediately shot him a look, one that clearly demanded he not say _anything _about Hobart to Clay. "I ain't gonna say anything." Jackson told him hastily. "But this conversation ain't done either."

Opie nodded once in understanding. Then both bikers shared one last look before getting to their feet as their president approached.

"How'd it go?" Jackson asked once Clay had come to a halt in front of them.

"'Bout as good as can be expected." Clay answered with a shrug of resignation. He then heaved, his eyebrows rising up behind his sunglasses. "He'll help us keep an eye on Alvarez and his little 'rebellion' as long as we've got his back if-and-when the shit hits the fan."

"How kind of him." Jackson said sarcastically, making Clay scoff in response.

"I got a call from Lin on the way to Darby's regarding our business proposal, by the way." Clay continued, making Jackson's eyebrows shoot up with interest – seeing as the One-Niners had been unwilling to help SAMCRO in their time of need, Clay had given Jackson the green light to branch out and extend their hand to other, more _negotiable_ business partners. One of the first names that had come to mind had been Henry Lin, whom the club hadn't had dealings with since that fiasco with Chuck Marstein the year before. Jackson had made a call to the leader of the San Francisco-based Lin Triad the day before and the club had been impatiently waiting to hear back from him ever since.

"Yeah, what'd he say?" Jackson asked, eager to hear what the man's answer had been.

"The deal's a go." Clay said with a nod. Jackson let out a heave of relief – _finally_, they had a bit of luck. " – but only if we can deliver by eight o'clock tonight."

And just like that, his relief vanished in the blink of an eye. "Why so soon?" He asked slowly, wondering why they had such a small window of time to work with and whether Henry Lin was purposefully trying to make this whole situation even more difficult for them than it already was.

"My guess is that he knows we're desperate and at his mercy." Clay spat out, irritation lacing his words. "Probably tryin' to prove a point, the chink bastard…" He grumbled for a second, clearly thinking the same thing Jackson was. "I already got Piney and the prospect gettin' everything assembled, so we should be good to roll out by six. It'll be us three, Tig, and Chibs on the run tonight – the others will stay behind and make sure the clubhouse don't get trashed to shit by a bunch'a hang-arounds in our absence."

"We?" Jackson asked, surprised to hear that Clay wanted to come since he'd opted out the past few times. "You comin' along for this one?"

Clay nodded. "Figure it'd be a good idea. You know, a show of good faith in case things end up gettin' _real _messy and we need a little extra manpower on our side."

"Aight, then." Jackson said with a nod of understanding, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where's the drop off?" Opie asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Chinatown, a restaurant called Jai Yun – our instructions are to 'be discreet'." Clay answered before raising a hand to wave at Gemma when they spotted one another. "I better go visit with my wife." He said, raising his eyebrows at Jackson and Opie again. "We'll leave here in a few hours, start gettin' ready for the ride…until then enjoy what's left of the afternoon while you can."

Clay meandered off after that and started making his way towards Gemma, leaving Opie and Jackson alone again. Opie tuned his head to look down at Jackson with a grateful expression then nodded his head once, his way of silently thanking his friend for keeping mum on the subject of Kyle Hobart.

"I meant what I said." Jackson reminded him firmly, a no-nonsense expression on his face. "We still need to talk a little more about that shit with Hobart."

Opie nodded again and then started backing away. "I'm gonna go find Donna and the kids." He said to change the subject, jerking his in the direction of the bouncy house. "Comin'?"

Jackson stared at his friend for a second before glancing towards the Billy Goat Gruff booth, where both Prejean and Rachel were busy serving a group of bashful looking pre-teen boys. "Nah, think I'll go grab me some bar-b-que instead." He said with a shake of his head. "But I'll catch up with you later."

Opie glanced towards the booth, saw who was working, then raised his eyebrows at Jackson knowingly – Jackson just quirked an eyebrow, daring his friend to say something. "Okay then." Opie finally said, raising his hands up in defeat before turning and walking away, towering above most of the crowd as he passed through.

* * *

Dana felt her heart beat just a little bit harder against her ribs as Clay Morrow, the Sons of Anarchy MC President himself, sauntered up to his wife and placed a slow, exaggerated kiss on her lips. It was the first time that she had seen the man with her own two eyes since arriving in Charming and now he was standing only twenty feet away – he was just as odd looking in person as he was in his mugshot. There was certainly a very powerful vibe that he exuded, though, one that said his word was the law and that he was _not _someone to be messed with.

She watched as Clay and Gemma shared a few quick words before parting and going their separate ways – Clay glanced in the direction of their table, but even though it was only for a brief second it still sent a chill down her spine. Being so close to the man in charge of the very same club she was now trying to bring down suddenly made her feel a little intimidated…and by a little, Dana meant _very _intimidated. Because if that man _ever _found out who she really was…

"Uh oh." Rachel's voice registered with Dana's jumbled thoughts. "Here comes trouble."

Dana looked to Rachel with a frown then followed her pointed gaze, recognition dawning when she saw three bikers clad in leather 'Sons of Anarchy' cuts making a beeline for their table – she sighed in relief when she saw that none of them was Jackson Teller. The trio instead consisted of Tig Trager and Chibs Telford, whom she'd already met, and the Mohawk-sporting Juan Carlos Ortiz, whom she only recognized because his mugshot was pinned to her trusty corkboard back at the house.

"Well, well, look who finally popped in to say hello." Rachel commented, smirking at Juice as she nudged Dana in the side – if Rachel was happy to see the biker (which Dana believed she probably was), she hid it very well. "What do you want, Juice?" She shot at the biker next, looking to him with a serious expression. "And make it snappy, because I'm _very _busy and important."

"We were just comin' to get some of Dupe's world famous bar-b-que, thank you very much." The Son called 'Juice' retorted, scoffing and seemingly trying to play along with Rachel's apparent aloofness. In the next moment he turned his big, brown eyes to Dana, giving her a once over before raising his eyebrows. "Who's this?" He asked interestedly – Dana thought she saw Rachel's spine stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

"This, my friend – " Chibs interjected before anyone could speak up, dropping a heavy arm around Juice's shoulders. " – is a one Dana Prejean. She's Dupree's new girl." He explained before shooting a wink in Dana's direction. "'Ello again, darlin'."

She smiled at Chibs politely, but was caught rather by surprise when Juice let out a sound of realization. "So _you're _the girl the prospect's been goin' on and on about." He said with a snap of his fingers, making her eyebrows jump upwards for a second. "Jesus, that guy hasn't stopped talkin' my ear off about you or your 'date' tonight for three days – he's driving me fucking_ insane_."

Dana felt her cheeks heat up a bit as all eyes turned to her. Though Tig and Chibs didn't look all that surprised with the revelation – after all, if Juice knew they were supposed to have some form of a date tonight (she hadn't even know it was a _date _date until now) then she didn't think it too far fetched to believe the other members probably knew as well. "Well, at least I know I have a fan." She said with a shrug.

"Oh, _more _than a fan." Juice clarified with raised eyebrows. "Fan doesn't describe it."

"At which time I should prob'ly tell ya'ta watch yer drinks tonight, lass." Chibs piped up, making Juice nod his head adamantly. "Wouldn't want ya gettin' drugged yer first night in the clubhouse."

Dana frowned, not sure if they were jerking her around or not but actually a little concerned because Chibs seemed completely serious about the advice he was giving her. Before she could fret too much, though, Rachel snorted and shook her head at Dana. "Don't listen to them, they're just fuckin' with you – Half-Sack's harmless." She reassured her. "Speaking of Sack, where is he?" Rachel asked the three Sons, glancing around in search of the prospect. "I haven't seen him all afternoon."

"Helpin' the old man with some stuff 'round the clubhouse." Tig said with a dismissive wave, making Dana wonder which 'old man' he was referring to. Since there were only so many Sons of Anarchy members to choose from, she had to assume he was referring to the only old club member not at the fundraiser – Piermont "Piney" Winston.

"About damn time ya showed your face!" Dupree loud voice suddenly interjected. He set his spatula down and came to join the group now that his cousin had arrived. "What's up, fellas?"

"Sup, Hare." Tig said, stepping towards Dupree with a grin and leaning over the table so they could share a manly hug. "Good work, cousin – looks like ya outdid yourself." He complimented, patting him on the back.

"Thanks." Dupree said as they released each other. He took a second to greet Juice and Chibs, then looked around curiously. "Where's Clay at?" He asked expectantly. "I don't think I've seen him yet. Thought he would'a popped over by now."

"He _was_ with Gemma just now." Tig said, turning his head to search the surrounding area for his president. "Ah, there – he's over there chattin' up Oswald." He said, pointing towards the far side of the courtyard. Dana watched for a few seconds as the two older, grey-haired men had a serious looking conversation, wondering who this Oswald was and what they were talking about – she made a mental note to find out more about the man before turning her attention back to the bikers in front of her. "Here." Tig continued, fishing around in his pocket for a moment before slapping a twenty-dollar bill in his cousin's hand. "For the lesbians." He said with a proud smile as he grabbed himself a plate of food.

"Just because they play _softball _doesn't mean they're lesbians!" Bonnie-Jean hollered at him scornfully from her station just by the bar-b-que pit – when this earned her a number of odd looks from the people around her, she flushed and went back to counting the money that they had made so far.

"Hey, I'm all for lesbians." Tig said, holding a hand up in defense. "In fact, I don't think there's _enough _lesbians in the world – I say bring on the lesbians!"

Tig had practically shouted the words, making several more people send odd looks towards their table. "And on that note," Rachel interjected. "I'll have to remind you that this is a _family friendly _event and that we should all probably stop shouting about lesbians." She hissed in disapproval. "Now you three get movin' so we can help other customers. Go on, shoo…_shoo_!"

Dana bit back a laugh as the bikers collected their plates and then wandered off, grumbling under their breaths and shooting the semi-drunk brunette sour expressions in the process. Rachel seemed rather satisfied with herself and headed to the cooler with her chin held high to get another beer. The agent watched her go and shook her head with a short laugh – Rachel was loud, sassy, and (like Dana) didn't seem to have time or patience for bullshit; she didn't know if it was just the beer influencing her or not, but Dana was starting to like the bossy brunette.

The second the agent faced forward again, it felt as though the humor had been zapped right out of her – standing directly in front of her and wearing both his trademark cut and trademark smirk was Jackson Teller himself. His eyes looked even brighter and clearer in the bright, afternoon sun and she pressed her lips together, trying hard to ignore how good he looked.

"Prejean." He said in greeting.

Dana, who had quickly recovered from her surprise, crossed her arms over her chest. "Teller." She said in return – a shiver raced down her spine against her will when his eyes blatantly trailed down the length of her body, then slowly made their way back up to meet hers. "What can I do for you?" Dana asked, ignoring the fact that he had just checked her out.

The gleam in his eyes made her think he might say something inappropriate. Instead, he simply chose to say, "One plate, please…and I'll take one'a those beers you guys are hoarding, too." He added with a knowing quirk of his eyebrow.

Dana nodded once and turned her back on him, heading for the cooler. As luck would have it, Rachel had suddenly decided to disappear while Bonnie-Jean and Dupree were now busy chatting with a small group of townsfolk, which meant she was left to deal with Teller all on her own. She grabbed the last beer from the cooler, ever mindful of the fact that Teller was watching her as she slipped it into a small, paper bag, then kicked the cooler shut before rejoining him. He straightened up and held his hands out expectantly once she had snatched up a plate of food for him, but Dana didn't hand them over right away.

"That'll be five bucks." She told him firmly, pulling his beer and his plate closer to her and further out of his reach when he grabbed for them.

Teller tilted his head and his smirk widening. "Doesn't SAMCRO get a discount or somethin'?" He asked, clearly trying to give her just as hard of a time as she was him.

"Sure…" She answered with only the _tiniest_ hint of sarcasm. "As long you're okay with the idea of short-changing all those poor, aspiring athletes and keeping them from meeting their goal, which inadvertently could end up crushing all of their hopes and dreams." Dana shot at the biker before flashing a sweet smile – Teller was looking at her with raised eyebrows. "Now…you still want that discount?"

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" Teller said as he shook his head and produced a ten-dollar bill from his wallet, though she couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed. He held the bill out to her and, since her hands were full, she managed to skillfully grab it with one of her pinky fingers. "Keep the change." Teller added, grabbing the plate of food and his beer from her grasp and allowing his fingers to brush over hers when he did so. "Wouldn't want to crush anyone's _dreams_…" He finished with a wink.

Goosebumps rose up on her skin after the brief contact with Teller, but she quickly pulled away so he wouldn't see. "Good choice." She said with a pinched smile, moving to place the money in their lockbox.

Dana expected Teller to leave after that, but instead he set his beer back on the table and started eating his food right there in front of the booth, looking like he wasn't in much of a hurry to go anywhere else. She watched him uncertainly, not completely sure why he was hanging around the booth or why he was watching her so closely.

"So…" He started conversationally. "You hear about the shindig at the clubhouse tonight?"

"Yeah." She told him with a nod – was Jackson Teller _actually_ trying to make casual conversation with her? Maybe he hadn't been bullshitting her when he said he wanted a truce between the two of them after all. "Heard it's a pretty big deal, too."

Teller shrugged nonchalantly, waiting to answer until he'd finished his bite. "It's the usual – booze, loud music, women…" He listed off casually – Dana knew from past experience that there was nothing 'usual' about clubhouse parties and that he was _wildly _underselling what would probably be taking place that night. "You plannin' on being there?"

Dana grabbed for her abandoned beer, which had gotten a little hot by now, and downed the rest of it before nodding. "Yep." She answered. Now, what motivated her to say her next words she wasn't entirely sure, but they came tumbling past her lips before she could stop them. "I've even got myself a date."

Teller seemed surprised to hear it – he paused mid-bite and then lowered his sandwich back to his plate. "A date?" He echoed, looking a bit unsure as to whether he'd heard her correctly. When she nodded again, he lifted one eyebrow. "With who?"

"Kip."

"_Kip_?" He repeated incredulously, scrunching his nose as he said his friend's given name – she couldn't tell what surprised him more, that she had a date with Half-Sack or that she'd referred to him by his real name.

Dana glanced around in mock-curiosity. "Is there an echo out here? Or is it just me?" She asked before smirking up at Teller, feeling rather triumphant when she noticed how taken aback he was by this revelation. Had he not known that Half-Sack had asked her out? It seemed unlikely since Juice, Tig, and Chibs had all seemed aware of her date with the prospective club member…then again, Teller _had_ intervened not just once, but _both _of the times that Half-Sack had tried to make a move on her. Maybe the younger biker had wizened up and decided not to mention their date around his vice president out of precaution.

"_You_ have a date with _Sack_?" He questioned, ignoring her remarks.

Dana rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Jesus, Teller, is it _really_ so hard to believe that someone would want to have a drink with me?" She asked in mock-offence. "You're gonna give me a complex or somethin'."

Before he had the chance to say anything in response to that, Rachel chose that exact moment to reappear. "Oh, hey Jax!" She said with a wide grin as she suddenly joined them. "I was wondering when you'd finally drop by to say hello."

"Yeah, hey Rach." He told her quickly, pulling himself together and wiping the stunned expression from his face.

Rachel seemed to notice that something was a bit off with the blonde biker, but she only flashed him an odd look before directing her attention to Dana. "Nothing got too crazy while I was gone, right?"

"Nope." Dana answered with a shake of her head – her eyes met Teller's for a moment, who was watching her with an unreadable expression now, before she turned to grab the empty beer cooler. "We're outta beer – I'm gonna go grab some more from Dupree's truck. Be back in a few." Dana turned her eyes over to Teller one last time and smirked. "See you tonight…_Fabio_." She said with a knowing smile before turning and walking away.

* * *

"Fabio?" Rachel asked, scrunching her nose up in complete confusion – then she looked Jackson over and shrugged a shoulder, the corner of her mouth starting to turn up. "Well, I guess you _do _kinda look like him…" She remarked with a quick snicker.

Jackson ignored her, watching the retreating back of Dana Prejean until she disappeared into the thick crowd of people. He'd known that Half-Sack was interested but had _not_ known that the younger biker had _actually_ asked her out until just moments ago. It brought forth a strange feeling from deep within, a sort of unpleasant possessiveness that made his spine stiffen and had him itching to get his hands on Half-Sack – Rachel finally grabbed his attention when she frowned and snapped her fingers at him.

"Jax?" She asked uncertainly. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"What's goin' on between Prejean and Sack?" He asked her directly, turning his gaze on the brunette.

"Oh." Rachel said with a nod of her head. "_That_." Then she sighed and shrugged a shoulder. "Apparently a little 'thing' has been brewing between them over the past couple of days. She kept texting someone while we were at work but wouldn't tell me who – now I know it was Half-Sack." She shrugged again. "They're supposed to have drinks together at the clubhouse or somethin'..."

Jackson slowly nodded his head, letting that information sink in for a moment. So Half-Sack had not only asked Prejean to get a drink, but had also exchanged numbers with her and was actually _talking _with her in his spare time? Fuck, the prospect had gotten further with Prejean in two days than _he _had in two weeks…though it wasn't as though he'd really been _trying _to get somewhere with her just yet, because if he _had _thenHalf-Sack would have been a non-issue.

Jackson frowned and mulled over everything he'd been told, then shook his head. He knew what Half-Sack saw in her because hell, _Jackson _saw it too – Prejean was a pain in the ass, but she was also attractive, spunky, and didn't seem to take shit from anyone (especiallyhimself); Jackson would be the first to admit that there was something very appealing about that kind of feistiness. And if _anyone _in the club was going to have her, it certainly _wasn't _going to be the prospect – as dick of a move as it would be, Jackson knew the easiest way to nip this problem in the bud would be by pulling rank and telling Half-Sack to back off…and the more he thought about it, the better that option was starting to look.

"What's that look on your face?" Rachel suddenly asked to pull him back to the present, her voice full of suspicion. Then, as she quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together, her eyes went wide and she wagged a finger at him. "No way…you're _jealous_!" She announced a little too loudly. "You've got the hots for Dana, don't you?" Rachel then asked before letting loose a rather evil sounding cackle. "Oh, this is too good - I never thought I'd see the day where _Jackson Teller _actually got upstaged by a _prospect._"

"Would you fuckin' keep it down?" He hissed at his friend, whom at that moment in time he was not very fond of – just because his interest in his neighbor was growing, that didn't mean he wanted everyone in town knowing about it. "Jesus." He heaved, glaring at her another second before continuing. "Look…I need you to do me a favor." He told her before he could think twice about his decision, even thought he knew his request would only add fuel to the fire.

Rachel pursed her lips, seemingly unsurprised that Jackson needed something from her. "Surprise, surprise…" She commented before crossing her arms. "What is it?"

"We got some business to take care of outta town, so I'm gonna be a little late to that party tonight." He quietly explained, not wanting anyone to overhear what he was about to ask of Rachel. "While I'm gone, I need you to keep an eye on Sack for me. Make sure he doesn't do anything he might end up regretting."

Rachel smirked, instantly deducing what it was that he was _actually _asking of her. "So what you're _really _saying is that you want me to make sure he keeps his dick in his pants so you can have all of Dana's good lovin' to yourself?" Jackson glared at her in return, silently tell her that he didn't appreciate her making fun of him. "Fine, fine." She agreed as she sobered up some. "And if Dana gets pissed at me for 'intervening' and starts asking questions? What am I supposed to say?"

"You'll figure it out." Jackson countered, leaving no room for argument – Rachel sighed but didn't protest any further. "If for any reason something _does _happen while I'm gone…" He added, a red-hot jealousy beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach at that thought, "I want to know about it."

"Okay." Rachel said with a nod of understanding.

Jackson nodded once, grabbed his plate and his beer, then left the booth to go and find his club brothers, leaving Rachel to stare after him with a slightly dumbfounded look.

Half-Sack was probably going to be pissed at him for forcing him to back off of Prejean – and Lord knew that mouthy redhead would probably want answers if she found out he had intervened like this – but he couldn't really bring himself to feel guilty about any of it. He didn't know what exactly it was that he wanted from her, but he _did _know that he didn't want some other guy (club brother or not) trying to get her into his bed – plain and simple. And before he departed for San Francisco and left her alone with the prospect, Jackson was going to make _damn _sure that Sack knew she was not to be touched…or else it was _him _that Half-Sack would be answering to.

* * *

**Can we all get behind this version of Jax? I personally like possessive Jax…and you'll find out why later in the story. Wink wink. Nudge nudge.**


	10. The Clubhouse

**This is it, guys. She's goin' in – what will the night have in store for her, though? Just wait and seeeeee…By the way, over 100 follows and almost 100 reviews? You guys rock my world.**

**Warning – there's lots of drinking, some raunchiness, and some pot smokin' in this chapter. You're forewarned. **

**P.S. This chapter is absurdly long.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with SOA.**

* * *

_**The Clubhouse**_

That night, Dana could be found standing in front of her bathroom mirror putting the finishing touches on her make-up. To her right sat a large glass of wine (to help keep her calm) and her phone, which was currently blaring her Janis Joplin Pandora station – she sang along with the song, grateful for anything that would keep her thoughts preoccupied for the moment, and finished putting on her mascara. Then Dana took a step backwards to appraise herself in the mirror.

She'd chosen to wear dark, denim skinny jeans and a white, sequined tanktop that clung to her curves and hit about mid thigh. They were essentially the only 'going out' clothes that she owned and she'd had to dig _deep _into her closet to find them, since they rarely saw any use. Dana turned to the side to see herself from another angle and then faced forward again with a sigh – though she didn't think she looked bad (she actually thought she looked pretty good), she knew she was going to stick out like a sore thumb at the party. Most of the women in that clubhouse tonight would be wearing next to nothing, if even that much; Dana was going to look like Miss Goody Two-Shoes compared to them.

Shaking her head in defeat, Dana reached for her glass of wine to take a sip. Her buzz from earlier had quickly dissipated once the fundraiser was over and the gravity of what tonight had in store for her had finally sunk in. She, Dana Bradshaw, was on the verge of becoming the first undercover FBI agent to successfully gain entrance to the Sons of Anarchy MC clubhouse. The knowledge alone was enough to have her stomach turning, and for more than one reason – she was not only about to step into _their _territory, alone and unarmed and totally at their mercy, but Dana was also about to journey into the very place she'd vowed never to return to; an MC clubhouse.

She took another sip of wine, a _bigger _sip this time, and closed her eyes as she sucked in a steadying breath. "Pull yourself together, Dana." She muttered to herself quietly, taking a few more calming breaths. In the next moment the song she'd been listening to cut out as her phone began to ring. She shook her head for a moment to try and clear her thoughts and then reached for the iPhone, sighing heavily to herself in relief when she saw the name flashing across the screen of her cell phone. Dana accepted the call before pressing the phone to her ear.

"Hey." She said in greeting, reaching one hand up to run it through her hair.

"Hey yourself." Joel's voice sounded in her ear. "Sorry, I tried calling the other phone but you didn't answer."

"Yeah, sorry about that, it's in the other room." Dana explained, sighing again as she turned around to lean back against the bathroom counter – she was glad Joel had called. Not only had he always been very good at keeping her calm and centered, but a conversation with him would be a very welcome distraction at that moment. "What's up? Something wrong?"

"Nothing that you need to concern yourself with right now." Joel told her evasively. "You gettin' ready for tonight?" Her partner then asked.

"Yeah." She answered, nodding her head even though Joel couldn't see her. "Rachel should be picking me up any minute now. Then it's off to the clubhouse." Dana added, glancing at her watch – Rachel had said she'd pick Dana up around nine-thirty; it was now nine-twenty-seven. The agent's stomach flipped anxiously when she realized she'd soon be in the SAMCRO clubhouse.

"Good, good." Joel told her approvingly. "You nervous?"

Dana sucked in a deep breath and kneaded the heel of her palm into her forehead. "Pretty damn nervous." She answered truthfully before letting out a heave. "But I'll be alright." Dana reassured him, even though she was still trying to convince _herself _that she'd make it through the night unscathed.

Joel was quiet for a second. "Listen, are you _sure _you don't wanna take a camera or a mic in there with you?" He asked for what had to be the twentieth time in the past few hours. "That way we can keep a closer eye on – "

"We already went through this, Joel." Dana interrupted patiently. "I don't want to risk getting busted my first time in the clubhouse – if I play it cool tonight I'll get invited back, _then _we can think about bugging the place, okay?" When Joel remained silent, clearly not happy with her decision, Dana sighed and tried again. "I'm nervous as shit already _without _having to worry about a bunch of drunk, rowdy bikers accidently finding a hidden mic on me. So can we just drop this for now?"

"Okay." Joel finally conceded. "If anything happens, call me. I _mean _it, Bradshaw – your safety is our number one priority tonight."

"I will, I promise." Just as she said this a car horn sounded outside; Rachel had arrived. "I gotta go, Rachel's here." Dana told him, all of her previous anxiety flooding back through her as she gulped. "Keep an eye out for me tonight, okay?"

"I always do." Joel countered matter-of-factly. "Good luck."

Dana ended the call and sighed, running a hand through her hair again and turning her eyes back to her reflection. "Go time, Bradshaw." She told herself, running her hands over her clothes to smooth out any invisible wrinkles and nodding her head to herself. "You can do this."

Then the agent finished her wine in three large gulps and headed back into her bedroom to slip on a pair of flats and grab her purse, only pausing for a second to make sure she had both of her cell phones and her portable panic button, just in case. Finally, once she deemed herself ready, she sucked in one last calming breath and went to meet Rachel outside.

A loud whistle reached Dana's ears as soon as she stepped out of her house. The agent rolled her eyes good-naturedly and shook her head, laughing to herself whenever she turned around to lock the door and Rachel shouted, "Damn, girl! I could bounce _quarters _off that ass!" through her open car window. When Dana faced her co-worker again, she shot her a look and quickly hurried to the waiting car before Rachel could shout any other inappropriate things.

"You look scrum-diddly-umptious tonight." Rachel complimented with a wag of her eyebrows as Dana slid into the car and closed the door behind her. "You tryin' to impress someone?" She then asked teasingly, winking at her dramatically.

"I think I've got a date…or somethin' like that." Dana joked back with a smile and a shrug. She took a second to eye her co-worker – Rachel was wearing a pair of short, tight shorts and a halter-top that showed a generous amount of cleavage; there were also a pair of tall heels on her feet. "Well, well…seems I'm not the only one dressing to impress tonight." Dana shot back at her, wondering if Rachel had dressed this way to catch Juice's attention. "Who are _you _so fancied up for?"

"Who, _me_?" Rachel asked with a far-too-innocent expression. "Get real." She added with an un-ladylike snort. "This is just my typical party get-up."

"Are you sure?" Dana pried a little further, wondering how many secrets she'd be able to pry from Rachel now that they were friendlier with each other. "I thought I saw some sparks flying between you and Juice earlier…" She trailed off, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

Rachel gave her a sideways glance, then finally started to pull away from the curb. "Let's get going, shall we?" She asked quickly, suddenly unable to meet Dana's gaze. "So…" The brunette continued as they started to make their way out of the neighborhood. "You enjoying working at The Goat?" She asked conversationally, blatantly changing the subject.

Dana shot her co-worker another look – which Rachel dutifully ignored – but decided to drop the subject of Juice for now. "Yeah, I actually am." She answered, momentarily surprised with herself when she realized the answer _wasn't _a lie. "It's different, you know? It's fun." Dana explained with a nod. "And I like my co-workers." She added, giving Rachel a meaningful look.

"Stop it before you make me blush." Rachel told her, raising a hand up as though warding off the kind words. The two then shared a quick laugh. "In all seriousness, though," Rachel continued, "I'm glad you're doing so well at the bar. Dupree has a bad habit of hiring airheads – like Tammy, for example." Dana snickered at that. "Not to mention the fact that ninety-percent of the newbie's wind up getting scared off by the guys."

"The guys?" Dana asked curiously, sure she knew who Rachel was referring to but wanting clarification anyway.

"SAMCRO." Rachel confirmed – Dana made a sound of understanding. "So basically we hit the jackpot with you. You're smart _and_ you can handle yourself around the Sons. Honestly, if you ended up having wings and a halo I wouldn't be very surprised." The two co-workers shared another laugh before Rachel lifted the arm rest between them and started rummaging around, never once taking her eyes off the road – Dana's eyebrows shot up when Rachel suddenly produced a small glass pipe use for smoking marijuana from the center console. "Do you smoke?" Rachel asked her curiously.

"Not in a _really _long time." Dana told her, finding this situation to be unbelievably strange – as a federal agent, even an undercover one, she was not allowed to smoke marijuana. And the fact that someone was going to be doing something illegal right in front of her and, on top of that, knowing she couldn't do _anything_ about it, made her feel rather powerless.

"Well, Dupe doesn't drug test – _he_ wouldn't pass the damn thing even if he did." Rachel said with a laugh as she moved the pipe to her purse, along with a small tin box. "So if you feel like startin' up again, just let me know. I'm a firm believer in 'sharing is caring'." She told Dana with a wink.

"Thanks." Dana said with a smirk. "I'll think about it."

Silence fell between them when Rachel turned on the radio and started singing along with the Bon Jovi song now playing through the speakers. Dana watched as the scenery jumped past her window for a while until she finally turned a curious look on Rachel.

"Just out of curiosity, how did you get to be such good friends with SAMCRO anyway?" She asked, truly wanting to know – was Rachel related to the club in some way? Had she gone to high school with the younger members? Dana realized she didn't know very much about Rachel at all, but found herself wanting to learn. "I mean…they don't really seem like the type of guys that have a lot of female friends hangin' around, you know?"

Rachel shrugged a shoulder. "Eh, I guess you're half right – usually the guys only want women around for, erm, _special reasons_…if you know what I mean." The brunette explained with a pointed look in Dana's direction – Dana knew _exactly _what she meant. "But as for me, well…I grew up with three older brothers, so I know how to hold my own against guys like them." She continued with a wide smirk. "I started hangin' out with them when Dupree hired me at the bar, and once they realized I wasn't some mindless skank they could boss around I eventually just became friends with them."

"Got it." Dana said with an impressed nod before turning her eyes back to the scenery jumping past her window.

They pulled into the Teller-Morrow parking lot about fifteen minutes later – the lot was packed with cars and motorcycles alike and she could already hear the pounding music playing inside the nearby clubhouse. Her conversation with Rachel on the way over had made Dana momentarily forget how nervous she was about tonight, but now that they had arrived the feeling returned with a vengeance.

"Here we are." Rachel said as she pulled into a parking space and put the car in park – when she looked over at Dana, she grinned widely and slapped her on the shoulder enthusiastically. "Time to get our party on!"

And with that Rachel was getting out of the car and slamming the door shut behind her; Dana sucked in a deep breath and followed her suit. While Rachel retrieved her purse from the backseat Dana lingered by the car and looked around, eyeing the many people loitering around the parking lot – most of the men she saw had long hair and were covered in tattoos; the women, unsurprisingly, were all dressed very revealingly and were unabashedly fawning all over anyone that paid them attention. Dana pulled a face, but kept her comments to herself as Rachel appeared at her side.

"C'mon, Prejean." Rachel said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and jerking her head towards the clubhouse. "Let's get you drunk."

Dana nodded and allowed Rachel to lead her towards the clubhouse. Her heart pounded a little bit harder with each step that brought them closer to the loud, bustling building – a group sitting around a picnic table just by the entrance to the building quieted down as they approached and gave Dana a critical once over when she passed by, but she ignored the looks they sent her way and continued on. Rachel dropped her arm from around Dana's shoulder once they reached the door so she could step ahead and yank it open; they were both immediately blasted with the sounds of loud music, laughter, and numerous conversations from inside.

Rachel grinned at her and strode inside without a second thought, but Dana hesitated. This was it – she was about to journey into the lion's den. She sucked in one last deep breath, steeling herself, before finally stepping inside.

There were so many people – bikers and women and hang-around's alike – and there was so much activity that Dana almost immediately felt overwhelmed. She glanced around as she and Rachel walked a little further into the clubhouse, trying to take in everything that was going on – to her left there was group of guys in the middle of a drinking contest while a nearly-naked woman circled around on a stripper pole only feet away from them; to her right sat a few club members from the Oregon charter, who were already cozying up to their sweetbutts of choice. As Rachel grabbed her by the wrist and started pulling her through the crowd, however, Dana couldn't help but frown a little – there was no sign of Teller, or most of the SAMCRO members for that matter, anywhere.

"Not a lot of SAMCRO members here." Dana commented, having to raise her voice some so Rachel could hear her over the noise.

"Oh, they'll be here – the night is still young!" Rachel told her with a wicked grin, using a tone that sounded rather daunting.

Dana realized that Rachel was pulling her in the direction of a pool table, where Juice, Dupree, and a few other men that she didn't recognize were shooting pool – she also couldn't help but notice that a number of leering eyes turned towards her and Rachel as they weaved through the crowd. Though this hadn't been unexpected, it still made her skin crawl a little bit.

"Hey, guys!" Rachel said in greeting once they'd reached the group. "Good turn out, huh?"

Juice almost immediately hurried to Rachel's side and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Well, well, well…" Juice said loudly, not bothering to hide the fact that he was blatantly eyeing Rachel's cleavage. "Now that the fun's here, the party can _really _start." That made a few nearby guys cheer while Rachel rolled her eyes. "What can I get you to drink, sugar?" Juice asked Rachel with a large, charming grin.

"Well, if you promise _never _to call me 'sugar' again I'd be happy to accept a Budweiser from you." Rachel said with a sickly-sweet smile before not-so-gently shrugging Juice's arm off of her shoulders.

Dana almost felt bad for the biker when a dejected expression crossed his face…_almost_. He wiped the expression off his face in a heartbeat, however, and turned his eyes over to Dana instead. "And how about you, newbie?" Juice asked, raising his eyebrows. "You drink, right?"

"I'm Irish, of _course _I drink." She told him pointedly, which made him smirk in return. "A Budweiser for me too, please." She then ordered, a bit surprised he'd even offered to get her a drink since most bikers usually expected the women to serve _them_, not the other way around. "Thanks."

Juice nodded and then turned to head for the bar. "And don't put anything in my beer, either!" Rachel called to Juice as an afterthought – Juice paused to shoot her an unamused look before shaking his head and continuing on, disappearing into the crowd. "God, I love torturing that man." Rachel said with a wide, satisfied grin on her face.

"Yeah, well, _keep _torturing him and he's gonna move on to someone else." Dupree piped up as he stepped around the pool table and joined his two employees, making Rachel frown for a second until she quickly wiped the expression off her face. Dupree then placed an arm around both Dana and Rachel. "Now _this _is what I'm talkin' about – good music, good booze, and good-lookin' ladies on each arm." He took a moment to wag his eyebrows at Dana. "Whatcha say, Red, wanna be my arm candy?"

Dana laughed before reaching a hand up to pat the arm around her shoulders. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I've already got a date for tonight." She informed him before craning her neck to scan the crowded clubhouse again. Dupree, who she could tell was only joking around, let out a dramatic, disappointed sigh. "Have you seen Half-Sack anywhere?"

"Half-Sack?" Dupree echoed, looking a bit surprised. "Yeah, I think I saw him outside earlier, don't know if he's still there though." He said with a shrug. "He your date?"

"Supposed to be." Dana answered with a nod – she looked around some more but didn't spot the prospect anywhere. She frowned in confusion, wondering where he was and why he hadn't tried to find her yet.

"Ah! Here we go!" Rachel suddenly cried out, grabbing Dana and Dupree's attention. The brunette slipped out from underneath Dupree's arm as Juice reemerged from the crowd, arms full with beer bottles. She took two from him, keeping one for herself and passing the other to Dana before dragging the agent closer to the pool tables. "Alright, gentlemen, I say we make a bet." Rachel announced with a grin.

"What _kind_ of bet?" Juice asked with a wag of his eyebrows. "The stripping kind?"

Rachel shot him a flat look before shaking her head. "Let's play a round of pool – me and Dana versus you and Dupree." She said as she set her purse down on a nearby table and picked up Juice's abandoned pool stick to start prepping it. "Whichever team loses is the beer bitch and has to serve the _winners _all night long. Game?"

"I'm game." Juice readily agreed before raising his eyebrows at Dupree.

"Sure." He agreed, already moving to retrieve his pool stick.

All three then looked to Dana expectantly. Since it was her goal to get closer to Half-Sack – which in turn would hopefully get her closer to SAMCRO – part of her wanted to go searching for him so they could get their 'date' underway. But since Dana didn't particularly feel brave enough to go trekking through the SAMCRO clubhouse alone yet, even if just for a few minutes, she decided to stick with the people she knew and nodded her head – Half-Sack would find her eventually, anyway, right?

"Okay, let's play." She said with a nod, setting her purse down next to Rachel's before grabbing a pool stick and getting ready for their upcoming match.

* * *

Jackson took a long drag off of his cigarette and checked the time on his phone – it was almost ten o'clock and he and his brothers were currently stopped at a rinky-dink gas station about forty five minutes away from Charming. He blew out a large puff of smoke then glanced towards the others, most of which were currently refueling their bikes at the gas pumps while a few others had gone inside to buy packs of cigarettes and zig-zags for the night.

As hard as he was trying _not _to feel impatient with his club brothers for taking their sweet time getting back home, Jackson was quickly losing that battle. Now that their business with Lin was finished for the night and they were free of any pressing obligations, his thoughts were focused solely around a certain redheaded woman that he just _knew _had to be in the clubhouse by now. He wondered what she was doing, who she was hanging out with at the party, whether she was with Half-Sack or not and whether the prospect knew how _very serious_ Jackson had been when he'd told the younger biker to watch himself around her – he remembered the confusion and disappointment on Sack's face when he'd pulled him to the side and informed him that Dana Prejean was off limits, but he also remembered how hesitant the prospect had been when it came to agreeing not to pursue anything with her.

Jackson suddenly found himself flipping his prepay open and typing out a message to Rachel, even though she'd promised to let him know if anything happened while he was gone – _How's the party goin? _He quickly wrote, trying not to sound _too _eager for information. He pressed the send button and then took another drag from his cigarette, feeling a little less irritated when he saw that his club brothers were finally preparing to roll out again.

In actuality, it wasn't just Sack that Jackson was concerned about – there were going to be a lot of men at the clubhouse, many of whom he didn't trust any further than he could throw them. And the thought of any of them trying to make a move on Prejean made his blood boil; though Jackson didn't understand what the hell made him feel so greedy and overprotective when it came to her, he vowed right then and there that he'd never let her go into the clubhouse without him again until he'd made sure _everyone _knew she was untouchable.

His phone vibrated and he flipped it open, fully expecting it to be an answer from Rachel. To his disappointment it was a suggestive text from a sweetbutt named Monica asking when he'd be there and not-so-discreetly informing him what awaited him back at the clubhouse if he was interested. He pulled a face and deleted the message, then snapped his phone shut again when Chibs started calling out to him.

"C'mon, brother!" He called in his thick brogue. "Time'ta get _drunk_!"

"Aight." He said with a nod, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it before getting on his bike and starting it up with a loud roar.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Juice! We won fair and square!"

Dana hid a grin of amusement by finishing what was left of her third beer, watching as Juice pouted like a five year old and shook his head. "No, you _cheated_. You're a _cheater_!" He accused, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. "You did that on purpose!" Juice was, of course, referring to the fact that he'd been about to make the game winning shot only to miss after Rachel leaned over the pool table in front of him and pulled the hem of her halter-top down, providing the biker with an even _better _view of her chest – he'd missed by a good two feet, which resulted in Dana and Rachel winning the match.

"I slipped!" Rachel said with an innocent shrug – Juice grumbled under his breath in return, looking miffed. Rachel shot a look towards Dana, who only shrugged and held her hands up to silently tell her that she was on her own. "Juuuuice…" Rachel practically cooed, switching tactics and moving closer so she could slide an arm around his neck. The biker went from looking pissed off to highly suspicious. "C'mon, honey…losing to me isn't so bad. I _always _take care of my bitches."

Dana laughed and shook her head, sharing a look with Dupree as Juice and Rachel started speaking to each other in hushed tones – since it was too loud to hear their conversation now, she turned her attention elsewhere and took a long look around the clubhouse.

The place had filled up even more since they'd arrived and even though they hadn't even been there for an hour yet, the party was already on the verge of getting rowdy. Everyone around her was looking drunker by the minute, women were getting bolder in their attempts to snag any man wearing a leather Sons of Anarchy cut, and, as expected, she could detect the tell-tale smell of pot starting to make its way through the cloud of tobacco smoke filling the clubhouse. So far she'd felt like she was handling being in the clubhouse fairly well – she'd been having a good time playing pool with Dupree, Rachel, and Juice (who was actually pretty friendly) and had been dutifully ignoring whatever shenanigans the party-goers around her were getting up to; a few men had tried to come and make a pass at her, but Rachel seemed to be her guard dog for the night and had shooed them all away.

But one thing that hadn't escaped her attention was the noticeable absence of Kip 'Half-Sack' Epps.

Honestly, she was downright confused by the fact that he hadn't tried to locate her in the clubhouse or even tried to get in touch with her – he'd seemed pretty excited about their 'date' for the past few days and had even texted her that morning saying he couldn't wait to see her that night. But Dana had been in the clubhouse for almost an hour now and hadn't even caught a glimpse of him, nor had he tried to text or call her. It was an odd, unexpected turn of events and she had to wonder what had made him change his mind about her.

"Dana! Hey!"

The call of her name caught her attention – she turned her head, searching for the owner of the familiar voice, then smiled when she saw Bonnie-Jean not-so-gently pushing her way through the crowd. The woman had a large drink in one hand and already looked a little worse for wear. "I thought you might be here tonight." Dana said with a smile once her neighbor was close enough to pull her into a tight hug; she returned the hug, patting the older blonde on her back for a moment. "Havin' a good time?"

"Oh yeah." Bonnie-Jean answered as she released Dana and took a step back, looking slightly unsteady on her feet. Her eyes quickly turned over to her ex-husband, leaving Dana to fight back a knowin grin when Bonnie-Jean blatantly gave him a once over. "Well, don't _you _look dashing tonight, Harry…" She commented before slowly wrapping her lips around her straw and taking a long, exaggerated drink, her eyes never turning away from Dupree.

Dupree's eyebrows shot up – he seemed both confused _and_ interested by Bonnie's reaction to him. "Well…back at ya, Bonnie." He told her with a slow smirk. Dana was fairly certain this was the first time she'd actually seen them be _cordial _to one another since meeting them. "When'd ya get here?"

"'Bout twenty minutes ago." Bonnie-Jean answered with a wave of her hand, sauntering a little closer to Dupree. "Luann and I went to grab drinks at the bar first, you know, have a few pre-cocktail cocktails." She added with a wink, which caused Dupree to nod in return as his eyes trailed over her form more than once.

Dana pursed her lips uncertainly, starting to feel more and more like a fifth wheel with each passing second – Dupree and Bonnie-Jean (surprisingly) seemed far more interested in each _other_ than anything else going on in the clubhouse, and it even seemed that Rachel's firm resolve to resist Juice was slowly beginning to crumble away with each drink she consumed; she still had an arm around his neck while they talked quietly to one another, the pair looking so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even notice when Dana decided to take a break from the loud clubhouse and walked past them to fetch her purse.

"Hey, I'm gonna go outside and have a smoke." She said to Dupree, not wanting to bother Rachel and Juice now that they appeared to be getting somewhere with each other. "Be back in a bit."

"Sure thing." Dupree said distractedly, barely acknowledging her before he returned his attention to his ex-wife. "How 'bout it, Bonnie? Can I interest you in a game of pool?" Dana heard him ask as she turned to walk away, leaving the group and the pool table behind as she started making her way through the crowd and headed for an exit towards the back of the clubhouse.

Dana breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stepped outside, thankful when the door shut behind her and muffled the noise from inside the clubhouse. The relative silence outside was a stark difference from the ruckus inside and she reveled in the change of scenery. Dana looked around, surprised to see that there was a hangout area in the back as well; there were a few picnic tables scattered around, even a few bar-b-que pits. A group of five men were occupying one of the picnic tables and listening to Guns 'N Roses from a small stereo and she glanced towards them, watching as they talked and drank and smoked cigarettes. Then her eyes went wide when she realized Half-Sack was sitting amongst them.

He'd spotted her too, and he jumped up from the table at once and hurried towards her, ignoring the questions his friends shot at him as he made his way towards Dana. "Hey." He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he stopped in front of her. "You look…" His eyes trailed over her for a long moment, a gleam of appreciation entering his gaze for a quick moment until he carefully concealed it. "You look really nice."

"Thanks." She told him, assuming he was acting so awkward right then because he'd more or less stood her up. "I was expecting to see you earlier." Dana told him bluntly as she started searching for her pack of cigarettes in her purse, the alcohol swimming around in her system making her feel bold enough to call him out on his absence. "Having second thoughts about our date or what?"

Half-Sack pressed his lips together and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable with her directness. "It's not that…" He said, sounding unsure how he should answer her. "I'm sorry. I just…I had some things to take care of." Was the excuse he finally gave her.

It was a lie and Dana knew it, but as she lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, she decided not to say anything about it – even if he _was _making it hard for her, it was still her mission to get closer to Half-Sack. "Got it." She said with a nod. "Well…now that you're not _busy _– " She started pointedly, making him cringe a little. "Mind if I join you and your friends?"

"Sure, sure." Half-Sack said quickly, nodding quickly and motioning for her to go ahead of him.

Dana smiled for a quick moment then started towards the picnic table Half-Sack and his friends were occupying, the young biker quickly falling into step with her. Though he smiled down at her, she noticed that it didn't quite reach his eyes. The nagging feeling that something was amiss returned but Dana pushed the feeling down, telling herself to ignore it for now and worry about it more whenever she was thinking a little clearer.

"Guys, this is Dana Prejean, she's the new bartender at The Goat." Half-Sack introduced when they reached the table – three of them she recognized to be mechanics that worked at the Teller-Morrow autoshop, but one of the men – the oldest of the group – she recognized not only because of his jean-material Sons of Anarchy cut, but also because she had his mugshot in her possession. It was Piney Winston. "Dana, this is Chad, Richie, Hank, and the one and only Piney."

The men nodded their heads to her and grunted out greetings. "Evening, guys." Dana said with a wave before gesturing to the open spot on Piney's left. "Mind if I sit next to you, old timer?"

The older biker, who had a cigar in his hand despite being hooked up to an oxygen tank, raised his eyebrows at her. "Sure…long as you never call me 'old timer' again." He told her in complete seriousness, never turning his stern gaze from her as puffed on his cigar.

Dana pursed her lips and nodded while some of the guys snickered to themselves, clearly amused by the fact that Piney had already put her in her place. "You got it." She agreed before easing into the spot next to him. Half-Sack claimed the seat on her other side and smiled over at her for a second before snatching up his beer and taking a long sip.

Surprisingly enough, Dana quickly discovered that this group of men was actually fairly easy to talk to – most of them had wedding rings on their fingers, making them seem a little less threatening, and they seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say as they fell into an easy, companionable conversation. Piney didn't have much to say, seemingly content to listen to the group's conversation and only interjecting here or there whenever he had something meaningful to contribute, but he didn't necessarily give off an unfriendly vibe, either. He reminded her of an old biker that used to ride with her father, a man named Butch that had also been of few words but very wise and very friendly once you got to know him.

Around ten minutes later, while Chad and Hank were in the middle of telling a very funny and embarrassing story about Half-Sack, a loud roaring sound that sounded similar to thunder rolling in cut through their conversation and caught the interest of the group – Dana knew in an instant that the sound was that of numerous motorcycles riding in, and judging by the cheering that suddenly erupted from those loitering around the front of the clubhouse, she could only assume that the rest of SAMCRO had just arrived.

"Looks like the boys are back." Hank commented, finishing his beer – Dana frowned in confusion, her thoughts a little fuzzier now that she'd had a few more beers. _Back_? Where had they gone to in the first place?

"Yep." Half-Sack said before he got to his feet – the mechanics followed his suit, collecting their things as they prepared to go back inside. "Better go see if they need anything." He then looked down at Dana with raised eyebrows. "You comin'?"

Dana thought about it for a second and then shook her head, suddenly a little nervous now that she knew Teller was there. "Nah. I think I'll stay here – I like the quiet."

"Alright then." Half-Sack said before turning his eyes to Piney. "Pine?"

To her surprise Piney shook his head. "I'm fine right here." He said before waving Half-Sack off.

Half-Sack nodded, glanced at Dana one last time, then departed with the three mechanics.

Dana fished another cigarette from her purse, glancing over at Piney with raised eyebrows. She hadn't expected to find herself alone with one of the 'First Nine' and wasn't entirely sure what to say to him; she had to wonder what his motive was for staying but didn't dare question him about it since she didn't want to make him mad. Just as Dana placed the new cigarette between her lips and started searching for her lighter, Piney waved a hand at her, making her pause and look at him questioningly.

"Put that thing away." He commanded, setting his cigar down as his right hand disappeared into the pocket of his cut and making Dana's eyebrows furrowed in confusion – in the next moment, Piney produced a neatly rolled up joint from his pocket. "Now that the vultures are gone, let's enjoy the good stuff."

Dana plucked the unlit cigarette from her lips, laughing for a quick moment and quirking an eyebrow at the old biker. "Should you be smoking when you're hooked up to…_that_?" She asked, looking pointedly at his oxygen tank.

"Of course." He countered as he lit the joint – he took a good hit off of it, held it in for a second, then slowly released a puff of the sweet-smelling smoke. "It's doctor prescribed…for my emphysema." He added, a tiny smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up.

Dana was pretty sure he wasn't telling the truth but laughed anyway and shook her head. "Got it." When he extended the joint towards her, she shook her head. "Thanks, but I don't smoke." She politely refused, wanting to hang on to some shred of coherency while she was in the midst of the SAMCRO bikers.

"And I don't share the good stuff with just anyone." Piney said in return, moving the joint even closer to her. "You're smokin' tonight."

Dana pursed her lips, thought about it for a second, then slowly took the joint from him – her boss would absolutely _kill _her if he knew she'd broken the rules and smoked marijuana at the clubhouse, but when you're an undercover agent trying to get in with the club and one of said club's significant members offers you weed…well, it seemed like a wise decision on her part to accept. She smiled gratefully at the older man and took a gentle hit, holding it in as long as she could before dissolving into violent coughs.

"Good shit, huh?" Piney asked with a lopsided smile when she passed it back to him.

Dana nodded as she continued to cough and grabbed her beer, taking a long sip to try and calm the sudden scratchiness in her throat. When she finally recovered she looked to him with wide eyes and shook her head. "Damn…" Dana said slowly. "It's been a _long _time since I last smoked." Dana said, wiping at her watery eyes and laughing a bit.

"Why'd you stop?" Piney asked curiously, hitting the joint again.

"My old job didn't allow it." She answered truthfully – she accepted the joint again when he passed it back. "Thank God I didn't drive tonight…" Dana commented before taking another hit.

They passed the joint back and forth for a few minutes in comfortable silence, and it wasn't very long before Dana started to feel the effects of it on her body – her muscles started to feel more relaxed and her mind felt a lot lighter, all of her previous stress about tonight disappearing as the marijuana calmed her down. Once the joint was finished Piney flicked it away and snatched up his glass of whiskey before turning a look on her.

"So…you're the pain in the ass, huh?" He asked, catching her completely off guard.

Dana frowned over at him, not quite up to speed yet. "Pardon me?" She asked in confusion. "Pain in the ass?"

"You're Jax's new neighbor – AKA: The Pain in the Ass." He clarified with an amused, yet interested, look on his aged face. "He talked to me about you a couple times – about how stubborn you are, that you've got a 'big mouth'…told me about that nickname you gave him too."

She pursed her lips, not sure how to feel about the fact that Teller had been talking about her to his friends but still feeling oddly vindicated knowing _he _was just as bothered by her as she was by him. "Well, I'm glad he's saying such _lovely _things about me." Dana told the old biker dryly before finishing her beer. "But in my defense, he asked for it."

Piney actually chuckled a bit, clearly feeling a little looser thanks to the combination of alcohol and weed. "I don't doubt it." He conceded. "I have to say though, I haven't seen Jax this riled up over a woman in a long time. But now that I'm seein' you…" Piney took a moment to look her over pointedly. "…I think I understand why he's actin' the way he is."

Dana was taken aback by his words – was Piney Winston trying to say what she _thought _he was trying to? Her thoughts were so hazy and jumbled from the joint that it took a moment or two for her to think of a response. "And what way is that?" She asked, wanting Piney to explain himself.

But Piney just smirked and finished off his whiskey instead of answering. "Looks like I'm in need of a refill." He commented evasively before slowly getting to his feet – he winced a little as his old bones protested, but made it to his full height and quickly collected his things. "See you inside." He said before heading back into the clubhouse and leaving Dana to mull over his words.

* * *

The instant Jackson and his club brothers stepped into the crowded clubhouse, his eyes started searching for red hair – a flash of red to the right caught his attention and had him straightening up to his full height, but it was just a sweetbutt who very obviously was _not _a natural redhead. After a few more moments of scanning the clubhouse and coming up empty-handed, he finally decided to try and find Rachel; wherever _she _was, he had a feeling he'd probably find Prejean there too. So he started making his way through the crowd, greeting people he knew and deftly fending off women that tried to latch onto him as he passed by until he finally located Rachel. She was by the pool tables, sitting on Juice's lap, and looking on as Bonnie-Jean and Dupree played a slow looking game of pool.

"Hey." He said sharply once he reached the group, immediately drawing the attention of a drunk-looking Rachel. "You don't check your phone?" He asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice – he glanced around for a moment, fully expecting to find Prejean there, but frowned when he didn't see her. "Where's Dana?"

Rachel looked around, seemingly only realizing just then that her new friend was missing. "Oh…shit…I don't know." She admitted, quickly scrambling to get off of Juice's lap as she started looking around the clubhouse in search of her. "She was here not that long ago playing pool with us."

Jackson heaved and shot her a look – _one _mission. He'd given her _one damn mission_ tonight and she couldn't even do that? "Where's Sack?" He asked next, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Rachel shrugged. "I have no idea. I haven't seen him since we got here."

He heaved again and nodded before turning on his heel to leave, ignoring the calls of Rachel behind him as he started making his way through the crowd. A few more women tried to catch his attention, flashing charming smiles and sauntering in his direction when they saw him, but Jackson ignored them and pushed his way to the bar. Several of his brothers were there already and getting their first drinks of the night, but it was the sight of Half-Sack standing by the bar, _without _Prejean, that had him sighing in relief.

"Lookin' for someone?" A voice asked in his ear suddenly.

Jackson turned to face Piney, who smelled of whiskey and weed and cigar smoke and was watching him with a very knowing expression on his face. "Sup, old man?" He asked, pulling him into a brief, manly hug.

Piney patted him on the back before releasing him and nodding his head towards the back exit. "She's out back." He said, reading Jackson like an open book and choosing not to beat around the bush. "Just had a nice little conversation with her…"

Jackson's spine stiffened – he suddenly and vividly remembered having more than one conversation with Piney about the redhead in question. And even though Piney wasn't an overly meddlesome person, sometimes he did like to tell share things with people that didn't always need to be shared. "About what exactly?" He questioned hesitantly.

Piney just grinned and slapped him on the back. "Go find out for yourself." He said before pushing him towards the exit.

Jackson frowned at him for another second before making his way to the back exit, nodding at more people he knew as he went. His mind raced a little as he pushed through the back door and was greeted with the sight of their 'backyard' (so to speak) – there he found one lone, redheaded woman sitting with her back to him and listening to a small radio. It was Prejean.

Now that he had found her and knew she hadn't gone off with some other guy, he felt much more at ease. He shut the door behind him and started making his way to the picnic table she was sitting at, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cut as he drew closer. She turned her head as he approached and offered him the tiniest of smirks in greeting, raising a cigarette up to her lips as she turned her attention forward again. Jackson let his eyes roam over her, appreciating the way her outfit clung to her even though she was still sitting down, before dropping down into the seat across from her.

"Evening, Fabio." She quipped as she blew out a puff of smoke – like Piney, she too smelled of alcohol and weed, but he could also detect a hint of fresh-smelling, feminine perfume that very much suited her.

"Evening, cupcake." He said in return, spying a cooler on the ground next to him and opening it up so he could get a beer for himself. "Beer?" He offered.

"Nah." She said with a shake of her head. "I'm good for now."

Jackson nodded and popped the top off his beer before taking a few long gulps – he was acutely aware of the fact that she was watching him with steadfast, scrutinizing eyes, but the expression on her face was otherwise impossible to read. He smacked his lips in approval and set his beer down, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket so he could share a smoke with her.

"Party inside too much for you?" He asked with raised eyebrows as he snagged her lighter and lit his cigarette.

She just shrugged. "It's pretty damn loud in there." She answered honestly. "And thanks to Piney – who is one pushy fellow, by the way – I'm way too stoned to deal with all the noise right now…"

Jackson snorted a bit. "Yeah, you're tellin' me." He countered, knowing exactly how 'pushy' Piney could be if he wanted to be. "You should feel lucky, though. He doesn't smoke often, but when he does he usually doesn't share his joints with just anyone."

"Well, aren't I special?" Prejean shot back, wagging her eyebrows some.

He really wanted to ask her what she and Piney had been talking about before he arrived, but couldn't think of a way to do so without sounding paranoid and rousing her suspicion. So, instead, he said, "What happened to your date with Half-Sack?"

Now _she_ was the one to snort. "I think it's safe to say that it's been cancelled." She told him. He couldn't help but notice that she didn't seem very upset about it, either. "Oh well…I wasn't all that into him anyway." Jackson fought back a smirk at that, feeling inexplicably relieved to hear it but trying his best not to show it. "So…" She continued, putting her cigarette out and then flicking it away. "What brings you out here? Aren't there some _charming_ sweetbutts inside that you should be paying attention to instead of chatting up little ol' me?"

He raised his eyebrows in amusement when she snickered at her own pun and said, "Get it? _Charming _sweetbutts?", leaving him to wonder just how much she'd had to drink.

"You're wasted aren't you?" Jackson asked with a tilt of his head.

"I've literally been drinking all day – what do _you_ think?" Prejean asked sarcastically. "Now stop avoiding the question and give me an answer."

He wasn't overly surprised by the pushiness of her tone, but he still chose not to answer her, thinking it much smarter if he played it cool and _didn't _tell her that he was only interested in _her _tonight. "Speaking of _avoiding_…" Jackson shot back, seizing the golden opportunity she'd just presented him with. "Any particular reason why you've been avoiding me the past few days?"

That made her sober up a little. She straightened up in her seat – the move made her chest push forward, which drew his attention to her breasts for a long second – and shifted around, looking uncomfortable. "I haven't been avoiding you…" She said slowly, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

"Bullshit."

Her eyes snapped back to his and she glared, looking a bit annoyed. "I've been busy." She said defensively.

"Not _that _busy." He shot at her, having no intention of dropping the subject until he received the answer he was searching for. "C'mon, cupcake, tell the truth – why'd you run away so fast after I dropped you off at the rental place?"

They stared one another down for a long moment, him with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk, her with narrowed, defiant eyes. She finally let out a heave and turned her eyes away, looking as though she might actually give in and tell him – he already had his suspicions, of course, as to why she'd been acting the way she had, but Jackson wanted to hear _her _say it. But before she had the chance to speak again, the back door to the clubhouse suddenly swung open, filling the area around them with the loud noise of the party raging inside – they both turned at the unexpected clatter to see that a few sweetbutts had come wandering outside, and as soon as they spotted Jackson they started making their way over.

"Jax! _There _you are!" The blonde of the group called excitedly, stumbling over with her friends at a fast pace – he realized it was the sweetbutt, Monica, that had texted him earlier; she looked like a predator about to close in on her prey.

"Shit…" He muttered, shaking his head. When he looked to Prejean again she had turned around to shoot him a look, clearly relieved that she'd been saved from having to answer his question.

"Well, I believe that's my cue." She said with a triumphant grin. As she stood and started collecting her things to leave, however, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Don't even _think _about leaving, Prejean." He said firmly, keeping her right where she was. There wasn't a chance in _hell _he was going to let her go inside and face that crowd of lecherous men without him – especially seeing as she looked _damn _good in that body-hugging outfit of hers – nor did he want to get stuck being hounded by Monica; it occurred to him that he probably wouldn't have minded Monica's attention if this had been another time and if Prejean hadn't come into the picture, but right then, in _that _moment, he found that wanted nothing to do with the sweetbutt.

Prejean's eyes turned down to the hand he had around her wrist and he could have sworn he saw her gulp. When she met his gaze again that same look he'd seen on her face outside of the rental place was starting to reappear, but instead of finding it amusing like he had a few days ago, the look in her eyes sent an electric charge through his nerves and had him starting to feel a little heated. He kept his eyes trained on her as he stood from the picnic table, keeping her close with the hold he had on her and immensely enjoying how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers.

"What are you – " She started to ask uncertainly, looking a little nervous.

"Just play along." He told her before he released her wrist and dropped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side just as Monica and her friends reached them. "Sup, Monica?" Jackson asked with a nod of his head, trying not to get distracted by the feel of Prejean's curvy body so close to his or that fresh, feminine perfume as it invaded his nostrils.

Monica stopped dead in her tracks, looking back and forth between Jackson and the woman under his arm for a long second. "Oh…I thought you were out here alone…" She trailed off, now looking Prejean up and down with glaringly obvious jealousy. "I was coming to keep you company."

Jackson looked down at Prejean, who was stiff as a board underneath his arm and had quirked an eyebrow at Monica. "Thanks, but I've got all the company I need." He said, winking down at Prejean when her eyes darted up to his. "Now I promised this pretty lady a drink, didn't I, darlin'?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at the redhead and silently encouraging her to speak up.

Prejean glanced at Monica then finally relaxed against him, smirking up at him coolly as she snaked an arm around his waist – she was probably angry at him for putting her in this position, but he decided it was worth it to feel that body of hers pressed so tightly against his. "Sure did, _baby_." She stressed before turning a sickly-sweet smile on the sweetbutts. "So if you'll excuse us…"

Jackson snatched up his beer and then started for the clubhouse, winking down at the sweetbutts as he and Prejean, with arms still wrapped around each other, brushed past. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the women were muttering under their breath as they walked away, but he was much more concerned about the one that was glaring up at him now that the sweetbutts couldn't see.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about, Teller?" She asked, never unwinding her arm from around him as they continued their little act.

"Sure…" He said with a lopsided-grin. "As soon as you tell me why you've been avoiding me, I'll be happy to share."

Prejean just scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning her attention elsewhere and dropping the subject altogether. Jackson shook his head at her stubbornness but still smirked to himself, vowing he'd get the truth out of her at one point of another.

As soon as they were back inside the first thing she did was drop her arm from his waist and try to free herself from his grasp. He reluctantly let her go, immediately missing the warmth of her body and scent of her perfume when she moved away from him. "Where's the bathroom?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she fidgeted on her feet.

Jackson pointed to a door on the left then watched as she turned and strode toward it without another word. "I'll be right outside." He called to her, which earned him an indecipherable look from her before she walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

He chuckled to himself once she was gone, marveling at her fiery personality, and shook his head again before leaning back against the wall to wait for her.

* * *

Dana was happy that the bathroom only allowed one person at a time so she could take a moment to collect herself in private. She locked the door behind her and then leaned back against it, sighing heavily and running a hand over her face – she didn't know what the _hell _it was about Teller that affected her like this, but she'd felt like her damn _skin _was going to catch on fire the moment he'd wrapped that large hand of his around her wrist. And when he'd dropped an arm around her and pulled her into his side? Jesus…his masculine scent and charming smile and the feel of rock-hard body had nearly been enough to have her knees giving out.

Dana shook her head and went over to the sink, glaring at herself in the mirror hanging above it. "Get your shit together, woman." She commanded herself sternly. "He's one of your _suspects_, nothing more and nothing less."

She told herself that a few more times before turning to use the toilet, pulling out the small, silver cellphone that she used to contact her team from her purse – Joel had sent a text checking up on her and she quickly sent a message back informing him that she was perfectly fine (kind of a lie) and that everything was going smoothly (for the most part) before stowing the phone in her purse again and finishing up in the bathroom. After washing her hands and sprucing up a little (Dana told herself she _hadn't _freshened up for Teller), she finally mustered up her courage and opened the door again.

Teller straightened up when he saw her and smirked, his eyes roaming over her body freely. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to acknowledge the heat his appreciative gaze made her feel or how good he always looked in that damned leather cut, and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't need a babysitter, you know." Dana informed him snootily.

"Trust me, if you wanna make it back through that crowd without gettin' groped then you're gonna want me nearby." He shot right back, taking a step or two in her direction.

Feeling a bit like a mouse being stalked by a hungry cat, Dana deftly skirted away from him. "I managed perfectly fine before you got here." She informed him matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, that was _before_ everyone was shit-faced drunk." Teller reminded her – and damn him, he had a good point.

"Fine." She finally gave up, feeling too drunk and stoned to have the energy to argue with hi anymore.

Dana sighed and turned to make her way back through the crowd so she could find Rachel and the others, all-too-aware of the fact that Teller was following closely behind. She quickly discovered that Teller hadn't been exaggerating and that the people inside the clubhouse were significantly more intoxicated than they had been when she'd gone out back – several leering eyes turned in her direction as she passed by and a few men even started in her direction; they only changed their minds when Teller placed a hand on her back and sent a threatening glare in the direction of anyone that dared to make a move towards her, effectively scaring away her would-be pursuers.

The two of them quickly located and rejoined the group that Dana had originally been hanging out with upon arriving at the party, who were still playing pool (how they'd managed to hold onto the table for so long without getting bitched at was beyond her) and starting to look beyond intoxicated. Though the temptation to ask Rachel when she planned on leaving for the night was strong – she wasn't completely sure her resolve would stay intact if she continued to drink around Teller – Dana managed to hold the question in and let herself get roped into a few more rounds of pool, reminding herself that she still had a job to do and that she needed to get friendly with the people around her.

But after another hour passed and as Dupree (sticking true to their bet from earlier) proceeded to serve her a few more beers, Dana was finding that her job was the last thing she was thinking about. Her eyes seemed magnetized to Teller and, against her will, kept turning over to him – and more often than not, _his _eyes were on _her_ too. Each woman that went sauntering up to him with a suggestive smile made her stomach twist with jealousy, but much like he had reacted to that woman named Monica (whom Dana was _not _a fan of), he dismissed each scantily dressed sweetbutt within moments of their arrival.

To say Dana didn't understand his behavior was an understatement; this version of Jackson Teller was so _vastly _different from the womanizing-asshole version she'd met at the bar over a week ago that it made her head spin. She might have thought he was just trying to be friendly or making up for being so rude to her when they first met, but something told her that there was more to it than that – there was too much heat, too much…_something_…growing between them for it to be just a friendly gesture on his part; before she could get too carried away with _those _thoughts, Dana did her best to diligently close her intoxicated mind to them, telling herself that she was drunk and stoned and reading into things far too much.

Sometime after midnight, as the party slowly began to start winding down, Rachel grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off to the side. "I need to talk to you." She hissed a bit drunkenly, keeping a close eye on the group to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"What's up?" Dana asked curiously.

Rachel sucked in a deep breath and then said in complete seriousness, "I'm going to fuck Juice's _brains _out tonight."

Since that wasn't what she'd been expecting to hear, Dana immediately burst into a fit of laughter. Rachel joined in and the two glanced towards Juice, who was unaware of the fact that he was being talked about – Dana's gaze momentarily drifted over to Teller, who was sitting at a table with Bonnie-Jean, Opie, and Piney (the two bikers had joined them about forty-five minutes ago) but staring directly at Dana. He smirked when their eyes met, then turned back to his conversation.

"Okay…." Dana said slowly as she refocused on her co-worker. "Congratulations?" She then offered uncertainly, not sure why Rachel felt the need to tell her this.

"Thanks." Rachel said with a grin before a more serious expression overtook her pretty features. "I hate to ask, but…do you think you could hitch a ride home with Jax?"

Dana immediately gulped, her amusement fading away in a heartbeat – getting a ride home from Teller meant having to ride on his bike again, which seemed like a _horrible _idea in light of her reaction to him the last time. "Why not Bonnie?" She asked, trying to find a way out of it.

Rachel shook her head and then jerked her thumb towards the table Teller was at – Dupree had joined the quartet and had stolen Bonnie-Jean's chair; Bonnie-Jean herself was now sitting on Dupree's lap. "I'm thinkin' she's gonna be busy tonight, too."

Dana sighed, thinking Rachel was probably right. She glanced over at Teller again, wondering if she was even sober enough to hang on to him on the back of a motorcycle, before she finally nodded her head. "Okay, I'll ask Teller to take me home." She reluctantly agreed.

Rachel immediately hugged her and pressed two large, wet kisses to Dana's cheek – the move earned a few loud, suggestive whistles from the men around them. "You're the _best_! I'll make it up to you, I promise." She said in a rush. "We'll do dinner sometime next week, deal?"

"Deal."

Rachel went to collect Juice after that, saying a few quiet words in his ear that made his eyes go wide. Juice literally threw the brunette over his shoulder after that and left without another word, much to the amusement of the woman over his shoulder and the cat-calling crowd around them. Dana shook her head to herself and then sighed before slowly turning to walk towards Teller. His eyes immediately turned towards her as she approached and a slow, sexy smirk spread across his lips.

"So…my ride may or may not have just gotten kidnapped." She told him, pursing her lips uncertainly. "Think I can hitch a ride home with you?"

His smirked widened at her question. "Sure you can handle it, cupcake?" He asked cockily, a knowing gleam entering his blue-eyed gaze.

"Yes..." She said slowly, certain he was thinking about their unfinished conversation from earlier – he could pry as much as he wanted, there wasn't a chance in _hell _she was going to admit to the desire he'd made her feel (or _continued _to make her feel) and give him the upper hand. "I can handle it."

"Then sure." Teller said before getting to his feet. "Let's go."

"Right now?" Dana asked in surprise, not having expected that he'd want to leave right that second.

"Sure." He said with a nod – both Piney and Opie were looking back and forth between the two of them, watching the scene unfold with nearly identical smirks on their faces. "Get your things." Teller instructed before turning to say his goodbyes to his club brothers.

Dana did as she was told, said a quick goodbye to the group sitting around the table, then let Teller lead her out of the clubhouse with a hand on her back. She couldn't help but notice that several women shot her dirty looks as they passed by, but didn't say anything about it – Teller didn't say anything about it either, but that was probably because it was common for the women that ended up on his arm to be regarded with jealousy and dislike.

"Here you go." Teller said once they'd crossed the parking lot outside and reached his bike, handing his helmet over again. After she fastened it on top of her head, he smiled at her charmingly and whistled. "Lookin' good, cupcake." He complimented as he got on his bike, making her immediately think back to Wednesday afternoon when he'd said something similar.

She shot him a look, which made him chuckle. "Just drive, Teller." She said, climbing on the bike behind him and placing her hands on his waist; she did her best to ignore the tingling warmth that engulfed her as her body came into contact with his again.

"Yes, ma'am." He said with a quick salute before starting up the engine and then tearing off out of the parking lot.

* * *

They pulled into Teller's driveway about twenty minutes later and the sound of his bike's roaring engine reverberated off the surrounding houses until he finally cut the ignition. Dana got off the bike first – though she didn't run away this time – and started to unbuckle his helmet. Teller used his foot to put the kick-stand in place and then got off the back as well, his hands running through his windblown hair and his eyes immediately turning over to her. Once the helmet was off she handed it over to him.

"Thanks for the ride." She said with a small, grateful smile, not sure what the look in his eyes meant but also not entirely sure she wanted to find out.

"No problem." He said with a nod. Teller glanced toward his house for a second, then looked back down at Dana. "So my mom's watchin' the kid tonight…" He began to say slowly, making her heart suddenly pound against her ribs. "Wanna come in for a drink or two?"

A drink? With Teller? In _his _house? _Alone_? That sounded like nothing but a recipe for disaster. Dana didn't even have to think about before she shook her head, declining his offer. "Thank you, but I think I should be going home." She told him before starting to back away. "I'll see you around though, yeah?"

Just as she turned to leave, though, Teller's hand closed around her wrist again, pulling her to a quick stop. She gulped and turned back around to face him, her eyebrows raising in question even as his touch sent another wave of heat along her body. "Dana…" He said in a low voice, the expression on his face a serious one.

It was the first time he'd actually said her name, and the way it sounded on his lips was positively sinful. She felt a little dazed as he pulled her so close that there was hardly any space between them, and as he placed a hand on her waist and licked his lips, she knew without a shadow of doubt that he was going to kiss her. For a moment Dana considered letting him, just so she'd know what it felt like to have those lips on hers and feel the scratch of his beard against her skin…after all, she could always just say she only let it happen because she was drunk and not thinking clearly, right?

But when Teller finally started to lean in and lower his mouth to hers, she quickly came to her senses – she was not only investigating him _and _his club, but her team was probably watching them on their surveillance screens at that exact moment. Dana placed a hand on his chest to stop him, which made him look at her in silent question. They stayed that way for a moment, neither daring to move, until she finally spoke up.

"Don't even think about it, Fabio." She told him as jokingly as she could, trying to hide how nervous and excited and incredibly turned on she was at that very moment.

Then Dana gently pulled away from him and started towards her house, leaving him to watch her retreating back in silence. She glanced back one more time when she reached the door – he hadn't moved and his eyes were locked on her, but he didn't seem angry. Dana sent a smirk in his direction and made quick work of unlocking her door.

"Sweet dreams." She called to him before stepping into the safety of her house and shutting the door behind her.

* * *

**Wow. So long it could probably be its own damn story. Thoughts?**


	11. A New Course of Action

**Oh my gosh, you guys – I had over twenty reviews on that last chapter! I can't even remember the last time I received that many reviews for a single chapter…you people are awesome!**

**Sorry the wait was so long - I experienced a little bit of writer's block with this one. I'll try not to let it happen again!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to SOA.**

* * *

_**A New Course of Action**_

Despite having drank copious amounts of alcohol the day before and getting home rather late, Dana woke up fairly early the next morning. It was just past eight o'clock when she blearily blinked her eyes open and then groaned to herself, raising her hands up to knead her eyes with her palms – she was beginning to sorely regret how much she'd had to drink now that a hangover was steadily creeping in on her.

After lying there miserably for another few moments Dana finally pushed off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, collecting herself for a moment before standing up and setting off for the kitchen; there were two surefire ways that she knew of to rid herself of a hangover – a strong cup of Joe and a nice long run to sweat out all the toxins. And since she was slated to work at The Goat that night and knew she wouldn't make it unless she was feeling _human _again, this morning was going to call for _both _remedies, starting with the coffee.

Once there was a pot brewing and the kitchen was starting to fill with the heavenly aroma of dark roast coffee, Dana leaned against the counter to wait, her eyes turning over to her window and, in addition, towards Teller's house.

She couldn't _believe _she'd let Jackson Teller come so close to kissing her last night – what the hell had she been thinking? So what if he was one of the most attractive men she'd ever laid eyes on and so what if she lusted after him more than she had lusted after _anyone _in a very long time. That didn't change the fact that he was an outlaw and a criminal and might very well be involved with the disappearance of two federal agents. Dana cringed when she remembered how badly she'd wanted to feel his lips on hers, to dig her fingers into that long blonde hair, to feel his hands on her body…when she remembered that her team – and probably her _boss _– had probably been watching the entire interaction, she cringed even further. She knew without even having to be told that she was going to have a _lot _of explaining to do.

After the coffee was done Dana poured herself a cup and headed into her living room, intending to zone out a little bit by watching the morning news. She hesitated by her purse though, which she'd dropped carelessly onto the end table while en route to her bedroom the night before, and stared at it uncertainly before finally reaching inside to retrieve the small, silver flip phone and see what sort of messages were awaiting her. To her surprise there were no missed calls or unread text messages from anyone on her team, which could either be seen as good _or _bad (she was fairly certain it was _bad _in this case).

As she checked her personal phone next, however, Dana immediately frowned when she saw that her mother had attempted to call her again the night before.

"Shit…" She heaved aloud. She'd been so preoccupied with the investigation and with Teller that she'd all but forgotten that her mother had tried to contact her the previous week, had pushed the disturbing voicemail to the back of her thoughts to deal with at another time.

For a long moment Dana contemplated ignoring her again rather than venturing down _that _road – she was too hungover at the moment to have the patience to deal with her mother, especially if this 'important conversation' still had something to do with her estranged brother. But since Dana knew that her mother would only start to grow impatient and would more-than-likely end up barraging her with phone calls if she didn't speak with her soon, she finally decided to just suck it up, call Paula back, and get the conversation over with; once Paula had said what she needed to, then hopefully Dana would be rid of her for a little while and could go back to worrying about more important things.

After taking a long gulp of the hot coffee, Dana finally rounded the end table and deposited herself on the couch, phone still in hand. She stared at it for another second, toying with it as she tried to give herself one last opportunity to chicken out, before finally pressing on her mother's name and dialing out, mentally praying that this conversation would be short and to the point. The line only rang two times before Paula picked up.

"Dana!" The woman greeted, sounding surprised and relieved at the same time – because of the time difference, it was around ten o'clock in the morning where her mother was. "I'm…I'm glad you finally called." She added in a meek voice – this was usually the way Paula sounded; Dana had already detached herself from her mother so much that the woman was now afraid to say or do anything that would only drive her further away. "I was starting to think that you wouldn't…"

"Yeah, sorry." Dana told her, not really sounding all that apologetic. "I've been working out of town and it's been keeping me pretty busy lately." She added before taking another long drink of her coffee.

Paula, who knew exactly what Dana did for a living, let out a sound of understanding. "I've always said that they work you too hard over there – when was the last time you had a vacation? Or even just time to yourself at _home_?" She asked incredulously, actually sounding rather _motherly _for a change – Dana couldn't help but roll her eyes, because Paula usually never went out of her way to actually be a mother to her unless she needed something. "What do they have you doing this time? Where are you?"

"I can't tell you that, mother." Dana told her at once to dodge having to answer the question – there was absolutely no need for Paula to know that she was working undercover in Charming, especially so if her mother was in contact with Brannon again. As far as Dana knew, her brother was none-the-wiser of the fact that she was now a federal agent…and she hoped to keep it that way.

"Oh, right…" Paula said slowly. "Well, be safe, wherever you are." She bid Dana earnestly. "Anyway," she continued, moving forward with the conversation, "Do you know what today is?"

Dana frowned a little as she sipped her coffee. "Uhm, Sunday?" She asked uncertainly, not sure where this conversation was going.

"It's May first." Paula corrected – Jesus, it was May first already? Dana didn't know where the time had gone, but cringed when she suddenly remembered that her oh-so-ominous thirtieth birthday was only a few more days away. "And I think you would be happy to know that as of today I'm officially five months sober." Her mother revealed proudly, obviously looking for praise from her daughter. "Not a single drop of anything since December."

Though Dana knew she probably should feel a bit more approving than she currently did, unfortunately these were words that she had heard before – Paula's stretches of sobriety were never permanent and always were short-lived; sometimes it was eight months sober, sometimes it was only three. Never had Paula been able to successfully put down the bottle for good; Dana didn't think such a thing was possible.

"Congratulations." She said, trying to sound at least somewhat sincere about it so she wouldn't completely crush the woman.

"Thank you." Paula said without missing a beat. "It's been hard, but I started attending a little church down the road and some of the ladies there have _really _helped me stay strong." She explained, leaving Dana to fight the urge to roll her eyes again – so she'd gone the church route this time around as opposed to rehab. Well, at least it was the cheaper alternative…even if Paula Simmons was _far _from saintly. "It's a wonderful place, I'd like you to come with me whenever you visit next." There was a pause on her end of the line. "_Are _you planning to visit soon?"

"I don't really think I'll have the time." Dana told her, unable to feel bad about that even though it was obvious that Paula wanted to see her. "This new case is pretty demanding. It's gonna keep me preoccupied for a while."

"Well…" Paula said, sounding disappointed but also sounding as though she were trying to hide it. "At least try to give yourself some free time now and again…you'll work yourself to death one of these days if you aren't careful."

"Okay." Dana responded, trying not to sound impatient – she knew exactly how to handle her own business and how hard she could push herself, thank you very much. "Look, I've got a lot on my plate today." She lied, wanting to get the conversation over with. "Why don't we get down to it and you tell my why you've _really _been calling me."

"Yes, yes, of course." Paula said quickly. "Did you…well, did get my message last week?" She asked a bit timidly – even though she'd been expecting the conversation to go this way, every muscle in Dana's body still went rigid as she quickly recalled the voicemail her mother had left. "You know…about your brother?"

Dana, whose throat tightened a little at the thought of her older brother, pressed her lips together for a moment. "Yeah…" She said slowly, trying to keep her voice neutral. "Since when are you two talking again?" She couldn't help but ask, her mind already starting to fill with dozens of unanswered questions.

Nothing in the world could have prepared Dana for her mother's next words.

"Ever since he started looking for you."

It was as though someone had poured ice-cold water over her entire body – Brannon Bradshaw, the brother she hadn't seen in nine years, the brother that had betrayed her in so many ways, was looking for her? Why? And why _now_? What had brought on this change of heart when they had both made it clear that they never wanted to see or speak to one another for as long as they lived?

"He's…he's what?" Dana managed to get out, setting her cup of coffee down on the end table and forgetting about it in an instant. "You said he's _looking _for me?" That could be bad. So very, very bad in so many ways.

"Yes, has been for a while now." Paula confirmed. "He only contacted me because he kept hitting dead ends, couldn't seem to find a way to get into contact with you – I assume he's had a hard time finding you because of some special bureau security thing?" She asked a bit curiously.

"Yeah, but that's not important." Dana responded impatiently, not wanting her mother to change the topic of conversation after dropping _that _bomb on her. "Why is he looking for me?"

"He won't tell me." Paula answered, now sounding a little troubled by the whole thing. "He just keeps badgering me for your number or your address."

Dana was on her feet in an instant in her surprise – he was _really _looking for her, was even trying to find out where she _lived_, for God's sake. "You didn't _give _them to him, right?" Dana demanded apprehensively, knowing how absolutely terrible it would be if Brannon ever found out that she was a federal agent. "_Right_?" She demanded again when Paula took too long to answer.

"I…I gave him your number." Dana immediately let out a frustrated growl and dropped her face into one of her hands. "Well, what was I supposed to do?" She defended herself at once. "He kept calling and calling and _calling_ and you've more or less been unreachable for the past eight months…I got overwhelmed! Besides, he's your _brother_ – isn't it about time you two worked out your problems?"

"Did you tell him I work at the bureau?" Dana snapped, beyond angry with her mother right then. Who did she think she was to meddle in her life this way? What right did she have after all the bullshit she'd put Dana through?

"No, I didn't say anything about that." Paula reassured her at once, and it sounded like she was telling the truth.

"Well, at least you did _one _thing right…" Dana huffed, shaking her head to herself.

"Listen, you and Bran – "

Knowing Paula was about to start campaigning for Dana to make amends with her brother, the agent quickly interrupted her. "Mother, mine and Brannon's relationship – or lack thereof – is _not _your concern." She clarified in a firm voice. "He's made his decisions and I've made mine, end of story." Paula started to speak again but Dana had heard enough. "I have to go now, okay? If Brannon calls again…" She paused and then shook her head. "Tell him that whatever it is, I'm not interested."

Before Paula had a chance to say anything more, Dana ended the call and tossed her phone away, not sure how to feel in light of this turn of events.

She was furious with her mother for giving Brannon her number, that was for certain, but she was almost angrier with _Brannon _for even trying to get into contact with her in the first place – when they had seen each other last they'd had a sibling brawl for the record books, complete with screaming, cursing, and even a few injuries (on _his_ part, anyway); they'd both walked away from it knowing that their once strong relationship had crumbled to nothingness and was gone for good. _Never_ had Dana expected to see or hear from her older brother again.

But now here she was, reeling over the news that Brannon was actively seeking her out after nine years of zero communication. And, yet again, she had to ask herself this – _why_? Was he in trouble? Did he regret the way things had turned out between them and was trying to make amends? Had something happened to his family? Or – Dana gulped to herself for a moment, an odd feeling rising up from her stomach – had something happened to _their father_? If Curtis Bradshaw had gotten himself into trouble in prison, Brannon would most certainly know about it…but then why would he feel the need to alert Dana when she had made it painfully clear that she wanted nothing to do with their poor excuse for a father?

Though her hangover had quickly become a thing of the past – that conversation with her mother had sobered her up pretty damn quick – her head was beginning to pound with a brand new headache, one that had formed as the questions and doubts continued piling up.

For the first time in a long time, Dana felt like she was at a complete loss. Part of her wanted to just forget about all of it, push it out of her mind like she always did – what did she care what her brother and father did with themselves anymore? At the end of the day, _they _had walked away from _her_. And as far as _she_ was concerned, they were just going to have to reap what they had sown. But another part of her _was _curious to know what had prompted Brannon to reach out to her, especially since he had to have known that it would be no easy task. It had to be about something important…but was that 'something' important enough that she should actually take interest in it? Important enough for her to break _more _of her rules and speak with her estranged older brother again?

Dana had absolutely no idea what was going on with her dysfunctional family anymore, but quite suddenly that run she'd been contemplating was looking _very _appealing – hopefully a long run would clear her mind of all these troubling thoughts and help her figure out where the _hell _she was supposed to go from here…

* * *

About twenty-five minutes later, Dana could be found jogging along at a brisk pace in a part of the neighborhood that she had not previously journeyed through. She wasn't entirely sure where she was and wasn't even certain she'd be able to find her way back to her house, but at the moment that problem was at the bottom of her list of issues – there was much more to worry about, like her investigation, the almost-kiss with Teller in his driveway the previous night, and, now, her troubling past that had decided to come back and bite her directly in the ass.

Thus far the run through the neighborhood had done as she had hoped and made the dozens of questions circling around her mind quiet down some…only she hadn't anticipated that clearing her head of the incessant questions would leave her mind open to a barrage of memories that she had long pushed away and tried to forget but were now resurfacing because of the conversation with her mother. Most of them were of her brother, of them playing as children, sneaking around at night with other kids that were apart of the club, of the numerous times that they had turned to each other for support whenever their parents were at each other's throats...and surprisingly, _these _memories affected her in a way she hadn't expected – they left her with a longing pang in her heart, a sadness that she didn't expect to feel as she acknowledged that she would never have another moment like that with Brannon ever again.

Now starting to feel a little unhinged, Dana came to a halt on a street corner and hunched over, bracing her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Why did she feel this way? Why, when she had spent years packing ice around her heart so that these memories couldn't hurt her anymore, was she so affected by them now? What had happened between her and Brannon was ancient history by now…shouldn't she, a _grown _woman, have been able to move past that part of her life by now?

But in the next moment, after Dana shook her head and mentally herself for having let her head come unglued, another memory, one that had haunted her for nearly all of her teen years, came rushing back to her…

OOO

_Dana, fourteen, stopped short when she walked into the room that she shared with her brother and saw that he was throwing clothes into a duffle bag, back turned to her. She glanced towards his dresser in confusion – the drawers were all pulled out and emptied of essential clothes – then at his closet, which was looking more barren than usual. Putting two and two together fairly quickly, Dana gulped and sharply turned her eyes back to her brother. He had yet to notice that she was in the room._

"_What are you doing?" Dana managed to ask in a timid voice, heart pounding against her chest; she was fairly sure she already knew the answer to her own question, but didn't want to believe that it was __**actually **__happening. _

_Brannon, nineteen, whipped around lightning fast at her voice, wearing an expression similar to that of a deer caught in headlights. He stared at her for a long moment before straightening up and clearing his throat, the surprise on his face slowly morphing to an expression of guilt. "I'm packing." He answered slowly, fiddling with the shirt he was holding in his hands. "I've…got somewhere to go." _

_Dana dropped her gaze down to the full duffle bag for a long second, then slowly lifted her eyes back up to her brother's – she knew he wasn't telling her everything; he had never been good at lying to her. "Where are you going that you need so many clothes?" She demanded, eyebrows stitching together. "What are not telling me?" _

_Brannon heaved, dropped the shirt onto his bed, then ran a hand through his longish brown hair. "Look, sis…" He said evenly, the expression on his face a serious one. "There's just something I've gotta do, alright? There's too many questions that need answering." Dana frowned further, not sure what he was getting at – Brannon paused for a long moment, meeting her gaze steadily, then finally said, "I'm goin' back home...I'm goin' to find Dad." _

_It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room with those last few words. Dana could only stare at her brother in disbelief, barely able to comprehend that she had __**actually **__heard him say those words – Brannon wanted to go back to their father? But __**why**__? Wasn't this the very same brother that she'd spent countless hours trash-talking Curtis Bradshaw with? And how many times had he told her that he absolutely __**hated**__ the man? What had made him decide to do this? _

_She didn't realize she had started crying until Brannon took a step toward her, remorse written all over his face. "Dana, don't cry…" _

_Dana snapped back to reality just in time to swat Brannon's hand away when he reached out to her – he instantly froze, looking physically pained by the move. "Why?" She demanded angrily. "Why do you wanna find Dad? What are you trying to do?" _

"_It's…hard to explain." Brannon replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously now. _

"_Well try!" Dana snapped, taking a moment to wipe furiously at the traitorous tears making their way down her cheeks. _

_Brannon heaved again and shook his head. "I…I don't know why I wanna find him. It just…it feels like that's what I'm supposed to do, okay?" He explained, throwing his hands up in frustration as he tried to make her understand. "I feel like there's something missing and I have ever since we left California – I __**have **__to find out what it is, sis. I just have to." _

_But no matter how gently he said the words or how long he stared at her with those wounded, puppy-dog eyes, pleading with her to understand why he had to leave, Dana couldn't accept it. She shook her head vehemently and took another step backward when he reached out for her a second time. "You promised you would never leave me." She threw at him bitterly, making him cringe. "You promised that you would __**protect**__ me – how can you do that if you aren't here? How…how am I supposed to take care of mom on by myself?" She asked next, wanting to panic at the thought of having to care for their alcoholic mother on her own when she was still so young. "I need you, Bran! You can't leave me like this!_"

_It was obvious her words had affected him, but it was also apparent that Brannon had already made up his mind and was not going to back down from his decision. "I'll come back eventually – "_

"_No you won't!" Dana interrupted harshly, not wanting to hear his excuses or lies. "You'll stay there…and then you'll become one of __**them**__." She countered matter-of-factly. "And you'll forget all about us, just like he did!" _

"_That isn't true." Brannon hastily protested, trying to talk sense into his hysterical, teen-aged sister. "I'm not like Dad, Dana. You know that – you know me!"_

_She shook her head, more tears slipping down her cheeks. "I thought I did…" _

_He seemed hurt by her words. "Dana – " He started, reaching for her a third time. _

"_No!" She protested, jumping away from him – she had never felt so betrayed, not even when Curtis Bradshaw hadn't attempted to intervene when their mother had whisked them away to Texas. "I don't wanna hear it!" Brannon watched as she backed away, a helpless expression on his face. "I…I…__**hate **__you for this, Brannon! I hate you!"_

_Then Dana turned and ran from the room, not caring where she was headed but knowing she wanted to get as far away from Brannon as she could…_

OOO

That had been it, the beginning of the end for her and Brannon. He'd left not even a half hour after that argument without saying goodbye and had embarked on a journey back to their hometown in California to reconnect with their father; he never returned Texas, just as she had predicted. The only other time that they would see each other in the years that followed was when Dana finally went looking for him before her twenty-first birthday and found him in the Devils Diciples clubhouse, also as she had predicted; this of course had led to The Argument, the one that had ended their brother-sister relationship altogether.

Dana finally straightened up and rubbed a tired hand over her face – today was shaping up to be one _hell _of a bad day, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. But she supposed there was an upside…at least it couldn't get any worse, right?

No sooner had that thought passed through Dana's head when she noticed that a white van had just come into view and was making its way – quite quickly – down the street in her direction. She paused to watch it, wondering why it seemed familiar, then straightened up alertly when it screeched to a halt directly in front of her position on the corner of the small intersection. Before Dana could think to panic or worry that someone might actually be about to snatch her up (which had happened to her before, by the way), the large sliding door on the side opened to reveal the smiling face of Joel Matheson.

"Mornin'." He greeted, as though him driving up in a van and stopping to talk to her in the middle of the street was a perfectly normal thing to do.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dana hissed, glancing around warily as she stepped closer to the van. "_Anyone _could see you! Are you trying to blow my cover?"

"Relax, Paranoid Patty." Joel said with a roll of his eyes before jerking his head a little. "Get inside – we need to chat."

Dana sighed in response but did as she was told and climbed into the van before anyone could see, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of her new neighborhood _or _give the neighbors something to talk about; both would completely contradict her attempts to not draw too much attention to herself. As soon as she was in the van Joel slid the door shut and they were off again – the two agents in the front greeted her as she found a spot amongst the scattered equipment the sit in. Jenkins and Agent Gonzalez were also present and sitting in the back with Dana and Joel, and both were watching the female agent with unreadable expressions on their faces.

In that moment Dana was fairly sure that she was about to get griped at – she didn't know what the looks being sent her way meant but she knew they weren't good. She shifted around uneasily for a moment, glancing between Jenkins, Gonzalez, and Joel for a long few seconds. "So…what's up?" She asked as nonchalantly as she could, feigning ignorance. "Why the surprise visit?"

Jenkins, who had an open laptop in his lap, turned his eyes down to the screen as he started typing away on the keyboard – he mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't quite understand, but Dana thought she heard him say the name 'Teller'. She eyed him for a moment, tempted to tell him to repeat himself, but refrained from doing so when Joel wordlessly extended another laptop towards her – when she accepted it and dropped her eyes down to the screen, her spine went rigid.

Carl Peters' image was staring directly back at her, and he didn't look overly enthused. "Good morning, Agent Bradshaw." He greeted calmly. "I trust you had an enjoyable, if not _eventful_, evening last night?"

So _this _was why she hadn't received any calls from her team yet – Peters had decided to bitch her out face to face via video chat, instead. Dana pressed her lips together and glanced towards Joel for a second before looking back to her superior. "Good morning, sir. And, er, it was nothing if not interesting." She admitted, trying to keep her cool in front of her boss. "A little nerve wracking I'll admit, but I held myself well against the Sons while I was in the clubhouse."

Jenkins actually snickered when she said that, but she barely had a chance to glare at him before Peters was talking again and catching her attention. "Yes, I see you've been making some…_progress_ where the Sons of Anarchy are concerned. Jenkins!" He called sharply, raising his voice a little and making Dana wince to herself. "Show Agent Bradshaw the feed from last night."

Dana shift her eyes over to Jenkins again as he turned the laptop that he was holding around for her to see, then he pressed a button to make the video file he'd opened up start playing.

Blood immediately rushed to her cheeks when she realized that the footage was from the camera pointed at Teller's house – and there, standing only inches apart from each other in his driveway and looking rather intimate, was her and Jackson Teller himself. She watched, throat suddenly feeling dry, as Teller started to lean in to kiss her only to be stopped when the video version of herself placed a hand on his chest. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she watched herself walk away from him and retreat to her own house, Teller watching her go the entire way.

"What do you think, Agent Bradshaw?" Peters asked to catch her attention again. "Would you consider that to be _progress_?"

"Sir, that wasn't what it – " She started to try and explain herself, eyes darting back to her superior as Jenkins snapped his laptop closed with a smirk.

"Can it, Bradshaw." Peters interrupted, making her immediately fall silent. "Now I've kept my side of our bargain – I've stayed out of your hair for the past two weeks and let you run the investigation how you saw fit. But this week marks your _third _week in Charming, and other than boozing it up at the clubhouse last night and cozying up to Jackson Teller, I haven't seen very much progress." He said, looking increasingly displeased with her with each word. "In case you've forgotten, the lives of two federal agents rest in _your _hands, Agent Bradshaw. We don't have time to dawdle anymore – I need _results_."

"Trust me, sir, I know exactly what's at stake here." Dana quickly spoke up when he finally gave her the chance. "And though it's slow, we _are _making progress. I've already scoped out the autoshop and the clubhouse. I'll be able to plant a few mics and hidden cameras the next time I visit, which will give us eyes _and _ears on the inside – and the Sons are bound to be more _informative_ when they think no one is listening." She explained in a rush, hoping that the plan would be enough to appease her boss.

It appeared to work, because Peters didn't seem _quite_ as angry anymore. He considered her plan for a thoughtful moment. "When do you intend to visiting Teller-Morrow and the clubhouse again?" He asked, rubbing his chin pensively.

"I should be back in the autoshop this week." She confirmed with a nod. "But the clubhouse? That I'm not too sure of." Dana then went on to admit. "I think I made a good impression, I just have to wait and see if I get invited back a second time."

Again, Peters thought this over. Then he seemed to come to a decision, because he leaned forward on his elbows with a resolute expression on his face. "I know how you can ensure yourself another invite to that clubhouse." He said in an even voice.

Dana pressed her lips together uncertainly – why did she have a bad feeling all of a sudden? "How, sir?"

"Jackson Teller." He said simply, making her heart immediately begin hammering against her chest. _Please don't suggest what I think you're going to, _she internally pleaded. "Clearly he's…_interested._" Peters continued. "Spend a little more time with him, reel him in a little bit more – if you do I guarantee you'll be back in that clubhouse by the end of the week."

She closed her eyes for a moment and internally cursed, knowing she should have seen this coming – Peters _wasn't _pissed about what had happened with Teller; he wanted her to _capitalize _on it. "Sir, with all due respect – "

"Agent Bradshaw, this is an _order_, not a request." He interrupted firmly. "I am still your superior and you will do as I tell you to. You needed a way into the club and now you've got it – we didn't put you next door to him so you could swap dinner recipes and borrow sugar from each other, we put you there so you could get to _know _him." Peters revealed. "Now do it."

"Sir, if Jackson Teller is interested in me then I can assure you it is for only _one _reason." She told him through clenched teeth, trying not to feel angry with the orders she'd just been given – she wasn't a damned _escort_, for Christ's sake! "And I do _not_ feel comfortable with the idea of using _that _as a way of getting closer to the club."

"I'm not telling you to jump into bed with him, Bradshaw. But keep in mind that we _are_ talking about the _Vice President_ of SAMCRO, for God's sake – Jackson Teller practically _is _the Sons of Anarchy. If you're in with _him_, you're in with the club. So you will do what you have to in order to get on his good side and _stay _there, do you understand?" He shot at her pointedly. When she didn't say anything in response, knowing he made a valid argument and that she was stuck whether she liked it or not, he continued. "I'm giving you one more week, Dana." He revealed in a serious tone. "One more week to get closer to Teller, get your ass back in that clubhouse, and give me some _hard _intel. If you can't do that…I'm stepping back in and assuming control of the investigation."

Dana looked over at Joel, who had been watching in silence. He offered a small smile of sympathy, but shrugged his shoulders as if to say, _There's no getting out of this one. _"Understood, sir." She finally told Peters, turning her eyes back to his image on the computer screen.

"Good." He said, looking approving for the first time throughout the span of their conversation. "Report back to me next Sunday, eight a.m. sharp." He commanded. "And, Dana?" When she raised her eyebrows at him in silent question, he said, "Don't forget who it is that you're dealing with here – these men are criminals, Teller included."

Dana frowned a bit but still nodded her head in understanding. "Yes, sir." The screen went black after that and Dana instantly let out a heavy huff of hair. She raised her eyebrows at Joel as she passed the laptop back to him. "Well, this day is shaping up to be _just _peachy." She commented dryly as Joel took the laptop and stored it away. "Thanks for the warning, by the way." Dana tossed at him as an afterthought, crossing her arms over her chest in disapproval.

"Hey, you're a big girl, right?" Joel asked, now pulling out a small tape recorder and tossing it to her – she easily caught it before starting to inspect it with curious eyes while Joel rummaged around for something else.

"What's this for?" She asked, turning her gaze back to her partner.

"The Sons took a trip to San Francisco yesterday. The agents that tailed them kept a log of everything that they saw – thought you'd wanna give it a listen." He quickly explained, making her nod her head in understanding – so _that _was where the Sons had gone to the day before. She wondered why. "Here, I had them transcript it too." Joel said, passing over a thin stack of papers.

"Thanks." Dana said, folding up the papers and stuffing them into the waistband of her shorts. She glanced around at the others for a moment, who had busied themselves with varying pieces of electrical equipment, then looked back to Joel. "Look, I don't know how I feel about this Teller thing." She admitted in a quiet voice – she was having a hard enough time trying to resist him as it was, she wasn't sure her resolve would be so strong the next time around.

Joel heaved. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he didn't wanna hear it. He already had his mind set on Teller being your golden ticket into SAMCRO." He then reached over and patted her shoulder. "You do what you have to, but if it starts to get…_serious_…back off. Don't put yourself in a position that you're not comfortable with." He suggested with a hint of concern in his eyes.

Before Dana could respond, Jenkins piped up. "Well, if you're interested I think I've got a copy of the Kama Sutra with me that you and Teller could borrow." He then shot an exaggerated wink in Dana's direction. "I bet you could find some…_positions_…that you're comfortable with in there."

It required all of Dana's self control _not_ to hit him directly in the nose. "Why don't you shut your damn mouth and grow the fuck up?" Dana snapped at Jenkins, making his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "In case you didn't hear Peters just now, _I'm _still the one in charge of this investigation. Unless you wanna end up working _mall security_, I suggest you keep your comments to yourself."

Joel hid a smirk of amusement behind his hand while Jenkins merely blinked back at her, looking a little red around the ears after having been put in his place. "Got it…_boss_." He said flatly before turning back to whatever he was doing.

The van came to a halt after that and Joel pulled open the sliding door again, presenting her with a view of the same street corner that she had just been on. "Alright, Bradshaw, time to release you back into the wild before someone thinks we kidnapped you." Joel said, motioning for her to get out of the vehicle with a jerk of his head.

With one last withering glare in Jenkins' direction, Dana started to pick her way back through the equipment in the back of the van. "What, you couldn't take me back home?" She grumbled to Joel sarcastically as she brushed by him and hopped out of the van, tape recorder still in hand and notes still stuffed into the waistband of her shorts.

"Wouldn't want to blow your cover, now would we?" He asked, tossing her words back at her, making her smile back at him sarcastically. "Don't lose those notes." He instructed with a point of his finger, making her nod her head in agreement. "Good luck, Bradshaw. I'll check in with you later." Joel finally said in parting before the door slid closed again and the van went speeding away.

Dana watched the van go until it disappeared around a corner, then sighed to herself and shook her head. So now it was her mission to spend more time with Teller, to start getting closer to him. Hell, Peters had more or less said that had been their intent for her this entire time…how could she have not seen this coming? And how in the hell was she going to survive spending more time with Teller when the short time they had spent together _already_ had affected her this much? She would admit (though not openly) that she lusted after Jackson Teller something fierce. Refusing him the night before had taken a good deal of willpower – Dana wasn't so sure she'd be able to stick to her morals if he tried to make a move on her again.

With a heavy sigh, Dana turned and started jogging back the way she had come, heading back in the direction of her house (or what she hoped was the right direction, anyway) – she had been wrong after all, because things _could _get worse…

And they just had.

* * *

Surprisingly, Jackson was awake and mobile by about nine o'clock, partly due to the fact that his mother had felt the need to call ass-early so she could tell him she'd bring Abel back to the house around noon but also partly because he hadn't slept very well that night to begin with. This wasn't a very uncommon occurrence for him, seeing as his dreams had been haunted by Tara since the day she left him, especially so when Abel was at Gemma and Clay's for the night and he was alone in the house; sometimes the dreams were good, sometimes bad, but they still left him in a rotten mood either way the next day, either angry because she had left him or depressed because she wasn't his anymore.

But last night, the woman in his dreams had _not _been Tara. This woman was a little taller, a little curvier, eyes blue instead of brown and hair a coppery red color instead of dark brunette. It had been _Dana _that had invaded his dreams last night and in the most torturous ways too, resulting in Jackson having to take a very cold shower when he was finally able to drag himself out of bed.

To his own surprise, Jackson found that he wasn't angry at her for rejecting him the night before – maybe a little wounded, yes, because it wasn't very often that he was turned down, but not mad. If anything the fire inside was one of _determination_, burning brighter and hotter now because Dana was playing hard to get and the chase was starting to excite him. He wasn't usually an overly patient man, especially when it came to a woman that he wanted, but Jackson knew he could find it in himself to play it cool for just a little bit longer if his prize in the end was having Dana in his bed.

After Jackson finished his ice-cold shower and dressed for the day, he stepped outside with a cup of coffee to have a morning smoke. He opened the garage, took a moment to breathe in the morning air, then popped a cigarette between his lips and lit it up. The neighborhood was still quiet, not quite ready to come to life yet on this sunny, Sunday morning – he noticed that Bonnie-Jean's car was still absent and smirked to himself, wondering if she was at Dupree's and hoping he'd be able to catch at least _one _of them on a walk of shame at one point or another.

He let out a puff of smoke, took a large gulp of coffee, then headed out into his driveway to grab the paper. He paused, however, when exited his garage and saw that Dana was also in her driveway. She appeared to have just finished a morning jog, and her workout attire of a tight tank-top and short shorts paired with the fact that she was in mid-stretch immediately sent a wave of heat through him and had his mind filling with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.

Damn that woman to hell…he was going to need another cold shower if she kept at it like that.

Clearing his throat and pulling himself together, Jackson continued towards the end of his driveway with all the casualness in the world. "Mornin', cupcake." He called to catch her attention, making her straighten up in an instant and whip around to face him – she looked surprised and a bit embarrassed, but she was already so red in the face from her workout that he couldn't tell if she was blushing or not.

"Hey." She finally said back after a beat of silence, ceasing her stretches and crossing her arms over her chest. "You're up early."

"So are you." He shot back at her, leaning over to scoop up the paper before taking another long drag off his cigarette. "Sweatin' out the toxins from yesterday?"

Dana nodded in confirmation, still looking a little uneasy - he wondered if she was thinking about their almost-kiss last night and whether or not she would say anything about it. "I had to or I would've _never _made it through the day, let alone my shift at the bar tonight." She explained, shifting on her feet some and shrugging a shoulder. "It isn't fun but that's what I get for drinking all day."

Jackson nodded his understanding as silence fell between them. There was definitely a lingering awkwardness between them after last night's events – Dana seemed a little guarded around him now, but whether it was because she was afraid to give him the wrong idea or because she thought she'd made him angry, he didn't know. Either way he wasn't about to let her shut him out that easily, nor did he have any intentions of giving up that soon. Deciding to pretend that there wasn't anything amiss between them for now, an idea suddenly popped into his head. With a smirk he asked, "Know what else cures a hangover?"

Dana lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him. "What?" She asked a little untrustingly.

"A delicious, greasy breakfast." Jackson answered with a lopsided grin – apparently Dana hadn't expected that answer, because her eyebrows rose in surprise now. "Whaddya say, Prejean?" He asked with an upward nod of his head. "Wanna go to Lumpy's while I'm still free of my parental obligations?"

To be honest, Jackson had asked her this with the full expectation that she would decline his invitation. After all, she'd more or less refused him every step of the way so far. But the redhead actually took a moment to think it over before a small smile appeared on her face and she nodded her agreement, making him blink in surprise. "Alright." She agreed.

"Yeah?" Jackson asked for clarification, not sure he'd heard her right - had she _actually _just agreed to get breakfast with him without any sarcastic retorts or even a hint of an argument?

"Yeah." Dana repeated. "Just let me take a shower first and I'm game."

Her words immediately brought forth the mental image of her naked and wet, making his pants feel a little tighter and forcing him to clear his throat before he could speak again. "Yeah, okay." He agreed, his voice a little huskier than usual. "Sounds...good." Though it would have sounded _better _if she'd invited him to take that shower with her.

With that Dana nodded and turned to head into her house. He let his eyes roam over her body then, lingering on some folded up papers tucked into the waistband of her shorts for only a nanosecond before dropping down to watch her round rear as she walked away. "I'll meet you out here in a half hour." She called over her shoulder, making him snap his eyes back up to hers before she could catch him staring at her ass. "And just so you know, _I'm _driving this time, Teller."

He pulled a face at that – it would be a little emasculating having to sit bitch while she drove, plus he liked having her on his bike and pressed up against his back – but didn't argue. "Aight, then…" He said, heading back for his own house as she made quick work of unlocking her front door. "See ya in thirty." He called before Dana nodded and then disappeared into her house to get ready for their breakfast date.

Wait…_date_? Is _that _what this was? Jackson froze as he entered his garage, stunned with himself – since when did he, Jackson Teller, go on _dates_? Since never, that's when…or at least, never with anyone who wasn't Tara. He supposed he'd never felt the need to treat a conquest to a meal because, well, most of those conquests were sweetbutts or croweaters and it wasn't really necessary to put that much effort into it. But on the other hand, Dana was _not _a sweetbutt or a croweater, and he knew that very well. _She_ would not be won over by charm and sweet-talk alone, nor did his position or power within the club seem to impress her very much. If he wanted her – and he _did_ – he'd have to put in even more effort than he already had.

Jackson shook his head and continued inside to get ready for his outing with Dana. He still didn't understand what made him so willing to spend this much time and effort trying to bed a woman he barely knew, but was sure he'd figure it out in due time; at least, if _nothing_ else, she was proving to be a nice distraction from everything. For once someone had given him something to think about other than the shit piling up with the club or the woman that had ripped his heart - and the life they'd tried to start together - to shreds. And all confusing thoughts and feelings aside, after everything that had been going on for the past few months, this new distraction was something that Jackson just might end up welcoming with open arms.

* * *

**Kind of a filler chapter, but at least we got a little more on Dana's past and can see how confuzzled Jackie-Boy is. Plus now she **_**has **_**to spend time with Jax whether she likes it or not and has an impending date with the VP. How do we think the 'date' will go? **

**P.S. There's some good shit coming up in the next few chapters! I'm getting pumped!**

**P.P.S. Is the sexual tension just **_**killing **_**you or what?**


End file.
